MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


OF 


SAN  FRANCISCO, 

IN  THE 

“SEEING  OF  ’50.” 


BY 


T.  A.  BARRY  and  B.  A.  PATTEN. 


“ For s an  et  hcec  olim  vieminisse  juvabit.y,> — Virgil. 


SAN  FRANCISCO: 

A.  L.  BANCROFT  & COMPANY, 

Publishers,  Booksellers  and  Stationers. 

1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 
A.  L.  BANCROFT  & COMPANY, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 


Years  ago  it  was  no  unfrequenfc  thing  for  old  resi- 
dentes,  who,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  had  arrived 
at  a point  of  doubt  or  difference  upon  the  location  of 
some  building,  or  the  names  of  its  occupants,  their 
personal  appearance,  profession,  or  peculiarities  in 
the  “Spring  of  ’50,”  to  come  to  us  for  information 
on  the  mooted  point,  believing  that  our  long  continued 
residence  and  peculiar  opportunities  for  observation, 
together  with  unusually  good  memories,  rendered 
our  decisions  worthy  of  consideration.  As  Time’s 
incessant  revolution  whirls  us  on  and  on,  still  farther 
from  those  days,  and  looking  back  upon  the  long 
vista  of  years,  the  once  familiar  spots  and  well- 
known  forms  and  faces  fade  in  the  distance.  These 
inquiries  increase  day  by  day,  and  so  often  have  we 
been  correct,  that  many  of  our  friends  have  said: 
“Write  some  of  the  reminiscences  of  those  old  times, 
and  we  will  read  them.”  Disclaiming  all  merit  in 
these  pages,  save  their  mnemonic  faithfulness,  we 
offer  them  to  the  kind  consideration  of  our  friends 
and  the  public. 


San  Francisco,  May,  1873. 


B.  & P. 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


or 


SAN  FRANCISCO  IN  THE  SPRING  OF  ’50. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/menmemoriesofsan00barr_0 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 

OP 

SAN  FEAN CISCO  IN  THE  SEEING  OF  ’50. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  man  who  has  lived  in  San  Francisco  for 
nearly  a quarter  of  a century  ; who  has  never 
been  absent  from  it  longer  than  two  weeks  in 
all  these  years  ; who  can  recall  vividly  all  the 
old  and  once  familiar  streets  and  buildings,  and 
the  men  who  lived  in  them,  can  always  com- 
mand attention  from  those  whose  memory,  less 
active  and  retentive,  is  ever  latent  and  easily 
awakened  with  an  eager  and  peculiar  pleasure 
to  listen  to  the  reminiscences  of  the  early  days. 

Disappointment  may  await  the  reader  who 
expects  any  literary  merit  in  these  pages;  but 
we  think  that  he  who  searches  them  for  facts 
long  laid  away  and  forgotten  in  the  dusty  folios 


8 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


of  memory’s  by-gone  years,  will  find  but  few 
paragraphs  that  will  prove  uninteresting. 

There  is  a romance  attached  to  the  early  days 
of  San  Francisco’s  history,  a real  interest  cling- 
ing to  the  men  who  lived  here,  and  to  the  inci- 
dents of  their  lives  during  those  strange,  event- 
ful days — something  not  so  easily  explained  to 
those  who  were  not  here — a kind  of  freemasonry, 
binding  fraternally  all  those  who  lived  here  in 
a time  when  the  very  sense  of  remoteness  and 
isolation  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world  brought 
men  closer  together;  made  men  who  knew  each 
other  merely  by  name,  and  who  had  never 
spoken  together,  grasp  each  other’s  hands  and 
form  life-long  friendships,  born  of  a sympathy 
in  men  so  similarly  circumstanced,  drawn  to  one 
field  by  eager,  adventurous  enterprise,  such  a 
long,  weary  way  from  home  and  loved  ones, 
having  something  in  common,  so  different  from 
any  previous  experience  known  or  read  of  by 
men. 

Although  nearly  a quarter  of  a century  has 
elapsed,  the  kindly  sentiment  still  burns  in 
the  hearts  of  these  men.  Even  the  scapegrace 
and  vagabond  of  to-day,  who  happened  to  be 
here  in  the  early  days,  retains,  somehow,  a place 
in  the  hearts  of  his  more  fortunate  and  respect- 
able pioneer  brethren,  who  never  forget  that  he 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


9 


is  a ’ 49-er,  or,  better  still,  more  remotely  dates 
his  advent.  A resident  of  those  days  will  linger 
and  courteously  endure  the  bore  of  the  most 
dilapidated  specimen  of  humanity,  with  a for- 
bearance bordering  on  the  marvelous  - in  the 
eyes  of  those  who  were  not  here,  and  to 
whom  the  whole  thing  is  more  mysterious 
than  freemasonry.  If  a man  who  came  to 
San  Francisco  subsequent  to  1850  should 
venture  a hint  that  time  and  money  given 
to  such  objects  were  worse  than  wasted,  he 
will  be  met  with  a “Yes,  yes,  exactly!  but 
you  don’t  quite  understand  it,  and  it  isn’t  to 
be  expected  that  you  should!  you  were  not  here 
in  those  days,  you  know!  You  see,  there’s  a 
kind  of  feeling  toward  the  men  of  that  time, 
however  unfortunate  since,  which — eh,  well! — 
we  can’t  see  those  men  in  want,  and  what  little 
we  give  them  is  of  no  consequence.’  ’ And  with 
a wave  of  the  hand,  and  a half  apologetic,  half 
deprecatory  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  our  friend 
too  gladly  dodges  the  truth.  Still,  he  never 
will — not  if  he  lives  for  a century  to  come — turn 
* the  cold  shoulder  upon  one  of  the  “ Old-time 
hoys ,’  ’ should  Time  permit  the  venerable  loafer’ s 
lingering  so  long.  While  we  may  smile  con- 
temptuously—we  of  later  days — still,  we  must 
admire  this  spirit,  more  than  friendship,  created 


10 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


under  such  peculiar  circumstances  and  enduring 
through  so  many  years. 

There  is  a genuine  regret,  a kind  of  Pioneer- 
pity,  in  the  hearts  of  some  of  the  unmitigated 
’ 49-ers,  for  those  unfortunate  men  whom  cruel 
fate  denied  the  ineffable  glory  of  arriving  in 
San  Francisco  in  the  memorable  year  of  1849; 
or  who  were  not  within  three  marine  leagues  of 
California’s  auriferous  shores  previous  to  the 
midnight  of  December,  31,  1849.  Time  cannot 
soften  the  hearts  of  these  otherwise  good  old  men 
towards  those  unhappy  individuals  who  arrived 
here  subsequent  to  that  momentous  period  in 
the  world’s  history.  Messrs.  Winant,  Bond, 
Clark,  Stout,  M.  D.,  and  a very  few  others,  are 
obdurate,  and  our  only  hope  is  in  the  liberal 
faction,  headed  by  Messrs.  Holland,  Yon  Schmidt, 
Donahue,  et  al.  The  man  who  is  hardened 
enough  to  confess  that  he  did  not  see  the  tra- 
ditional mule,  foundered  in  the  slough  on  Mont- 
gomery street,  between  Clay  and  Washington — 
the  man  who  admits  that  he  never  saw  the  tide 
half  way  across  Montgomery  at  the  corner  of 
Jackson — who  has  not  walked  on  sidewalks 
made  of  sacks  of  flour  and  boxes  of  Yirginia’s 
finest  tobacco — that  man,  we  say,  has  no  reason 
to  expect  the  slightest  consideration  (in  a Pio- 
neer way ) from  those  inexorable  men  of  the  ’ 49 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


11 


faction.  We  never  could  see  the  sense  of  the 
Pioneer  Association,  in  celebrating  the  anniver- 
sary of  California’s  admission  into  the  Union. 
Why  should  such  a body  of  men  sanction  the 
admission  of  California  into  the  Union,  when 
she  didn’t  arrive  there  before  midnight  of  the 
thirty-first  of  December,  1849?  It  is  simply 
ridiculous,  absurd,  for  them  to  notice  the  ninth 
of  September,  1850;  almost  as  inconsistent  as 
electing  to  the  presidency  of  the  association  a 
man  who  had  the  hardihood  to  delay  his  arrival 
in  San  Francisco  until  after  the  midnight  of 
December  31,  1849. 

The  atmosphere  becomes  very  foggy  at  times 
in  the  social  room  of  the  Pioneer’ s Association ; 
and  it  was  so  most  likely  when  Capt.  Johns  was 
elected  to  preside  over  men  who  left  the  east 
more  suddenly,  and  arrived  in  the  west  on  better 
time  than  he  did.  Some  grave,  deliberate  bodies 
are  comical  without  intention. 

All  just  and  fair-thinking  men  agree  that 
everybody  who  was  in  California  on  the  ninth 
of  September,  1850,  should  be  eligible  for  mem- 
bership in  the  association  of  California  Pioneers. 
Every  man,  woman  or  child  who  were  here  be- 
fore the  Territory  became  a State  of  the  Union, 
is  a pioneer.  It  is  amusing  to  notice  the  stick- 
lers for  cesta  among  the  ’49ers,  just  among 


12 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


those  who  came  in  that  year  ; among  the  earlier 
comers,  the  feeling  does  not  exist. 

The  De  Witts  or  Harrisons  of  ’ 48  are  not  in 
the  least  jealous  of  those  who  came  between 
January  1st,  1850,  and  September  9th,  1850. 
Col.  Stevenson,  James  L.  Wadsworth,  Dr.  Par- 
ker, Mr.  Nuttman,  are  not  ; J.  C.  Denniston 
(peace  to  his  memory)  never  was,  being  the  per- 
sonification of  generosity;  Messrs.  Huss,  father 
and  sons,  Alcalde  Hyde,  Alcalde  Leavenworth, 
Judge  Botts,  nor  any  of  those  men  of  ’46  and 
’47.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  late  Robert 
Parker,  the  late  Judge  Blackburn,  and  the  late 
Harry  Spiel,  of  Santa  Cruz;  of  Major  Snyder, 
Charley  Southard,  the  late  Major  Hensley,  John 
Sullivan,  the  Murphys  and  Mr.  Thomas  Fallon, 
and  all  the  men  of  ’ 44  ; or  of  J osiah  Belden, 
Don  Jose  Thompson,  Henry  F.  Teschemacher, 
and  those  of  ’ 41 — ’ 2-’  3 ; of  the  late  Thomas  0. 
Larkin,  the  late  Wm.  D.  M.  Howard,  and  those 
of  ’39-’ 8-’ 7 ; and  farther  back  to  Jacob  P. 
Leese,  Don  Juan  Foster,  Mr.  Stokes,  of  Monte- 
rey, Mr.  Branch,  of  San  Luis  Obispo  ; and  still 
farther  back,  to  Charley  Brown,  of  Mission  Do- 
lores, who  came  here  in  ’29;  Captains  Wilson 
and  Dana,  David  Spencer  and  Captain  Cooper, 
who  came  somewhere  between  the  years  ’23 
and  ’ 29 ; and  we  do  not  believe  that  Mr.  Gilroy, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


13 


who  settled  in  California  in  1814,  would  have 
voted  against  any  pioneer  of  1850. 

In  the  following  editorial,  clipped  from  the 
San  Francisco  Evening  Bulletin,  Feb.  6,  1873,  we 
find  our  own  and  the  general  public  sentiment 
well  and  truly  expressed.  It  was  written  by 
one  who  has  earned  the  right  to  give  his  opinion 
upon  the  subject — one  who  arrived  in  San  Fran- 
cisco on  the  eighth  of  July,  1849,  and  worked 
for  two  or  three  months  after  his  arrival  as  a 
boatman  in  the  harbor,  and  subsequently  served 
a full  apprenticeship  in  the  mines  of  our  State ; 
one  who  can  handle  rocker  or  cradle;  is  a good 
oarsman ; a linguist ; and  a genuine  connoisseur 
in  art.  As  to  his  ability  in  journalistic  matters, 
the  subjoined  editorial  may  be  offered  in  evi- 
dence: 

“WHAT  MAKES  A PIONEER”? 

“Malvolio,  musing  in  the  garden,  is  incited  to 
attempt  his  lady?  s favor  by  these  oracular  words : 
1 Some  are  born  great,  some  achieve  greatness, 
and  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them.’ 
The  world  has  worshipers  enough  for  all  these 
sorts  of  greatness,  but  as  the  larger  number  of 
people  who  desire  its  notice  are  not  so  lucky  as 
to  belong  to  either  the  first  or  last  of  the  speci- 
fied classes,  they  are  compelled  to  earn  distinc- 
tion by  some  act  of  their  own.  Various  are  the 
roads  to  fame.  Some  men  write  poems,  while 


14 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


others  stand  on  their  heads  for  it.  Some  ‘wade 
through  slaughter  to  a throne/  while  others 
tread  on  hot  iron  and  swallow  flaming  liquor. 
There  was  a genius  in  the  California  mines  who 
made  a national  repute  by  biting  through  six 
pies  at  once  on  a wager.  But  this  conquering 
man  of  jaw  met  his  Waterloo  when  some  wretch 
inserted  a tin  plate  between  the  layers.  En- 
gland, which  produced  Shakespeare,  also  pro- 
duced the  phenomenon  who  drew  and  etched 
admirably  with  his  toes.  Punch  tells  us  of  a 
gentleman  who  thrilled  society  by  giving  his 
mind  to  the  tie  of  his  neckerchief.  We  have 
often  seen  an  ephemeral  reputation  made  by 
writing  for  the  newspapers,  and  have  even 
known  a very  few  cases  in  which  people  were 
distinguished  for  quiet,  unostentatious  useful- 
ness. 

“It  was  reserved  for  the  Golden  State  to  make 
a peculiar  merit  of  a man’ s arrival  here  within 
a certain  time.  If  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
cross  the  boundary  or  touch  the  shore  before 
the  last  minute  of  the  last  hour  of  the  last  day 
of  1849,  he  is  a Pioneer,  entitled  to  honor  as 
such,  and  especially  entitled  to  a handsome  no- 
tice in  the  newspapers  when  he  dies,  under  the 
attractive  caption  of  ‘Death  of  a Forty-Niner,’ 
or  ‘Another  Pioneer  Gone,’  or,  more  succinct 
and  pathetically  suggestive,  ‘ Passing  Away.’ 
If,  in  addition  to  the  felicity  of  reaching  Cali- 
fornia just  when  he  did,  he  is  banded  in  a so- 
ciety composed  of  men  like  himself,  he  will  en- 
joy— if  a caput  mortuum  can  enjoy  anything — 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


15 


the  proud  satisfaction  of  having  his  virtues  re- 
hearsed in  a preamble  and  resolutions,  a copy 
of  which  will  be  duly  forwarded  to  his  family, 
if  he  have  one;  and  he  may  even  be  followed 
to  Lone  Mountain  by  a procession  of  his  late 
associates,  wearing  white  gloves  and  gold  or 
silver  effigies  of  the  grizzly  bear,  dear  to  every 
Pioneer,  in  rosettes  upon  their  black  coats. 
Thus  an  accident  in  a man’s  life  is  made  a source 
of  distinction  above  the  multitude  who  toil  and 
strive  around  him.  And  here  we  are  reminded 
on  what  narrow  contingencies  greatness  often 
depends.  Had  a fog  delayed  one  hour  outside 
the  Heads  the  ship  in  which  our  Pioneer  ar- 
rived— had  one  of  the  oxen  which  drew  his 
wagon  Across  the  plains’  given  out  just  before 
he  reached  the  State  line,  and  caused  him  to 
camp  beyond  it  one  night  more  than  he  expect- 
ed, his  arrival  might  have  been  in  1850,  instead 
of  1849,  and  he  would  thus  have  remained  one 
of  the  unhonored  mob.  We  knew  one  poor 
fellow  who  missed  his  opportunity  by  being 
detained  at  Valparaiso,  for  some  unconventional 
excess  of  high  spirits,  repugnant  to  local  pre- 
judice and  law,  until  after  his  ship  had  sailed 
for  California. 

“When  we  reflect  how  few  out  of  the  million 
can  achieve  distinction  in  any  way,  although 
the  longing  for  it  is  so  nearly  universal,  it  seems 
a peculiarly  happy  circumstance  that  the  Cali- 
fornia hegira  afforded  so  many  a chance  to  rise 
by  a chronological  accident.  Byron  says: 

’Tis  pleasant,  sure  to  see  one’s  name  in  print ; 

A book’s  a book,  although  there’s  nothing  in’t. 


16 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


And  so  the  honor  worn  by  our  1 Pioneers  of 
’Forty-nine/  although  so  fortuitous  and  unpre- 
meditated, is  something  to  exult  in  and  to  be 
jealously  guarded.  Men  who  obtained  it  by 
perilous  consumption  of  ligaminous  and  pachy- 
dermatous diet,  by  reckless  expenditure  of  two 
Spanish  reals  on  a stimulating  beverage,  by 
couching  on  poles  and  sand-beds,  and  by  rigidly 
eschewing  ‘ boiled  shirts’  until  woman,  like  an 
angel,  came  to  sew  on  the  buttons,  are  entitled 
to  a monopoly  of  their  hard-earned  glory.  Yet 
there  are  envious  people,  who  arrived  here  in 
the  first  minute  of  the  first  hour  of  the  first  day 
of  1850,  who  presume  to  dispute  for  the  title  of 
pioneer  with  these  veterans ! They  even  insist 
that  the  society  founded  by  their  illustrious 
predecessors  shall  be  opened  to  them  as  equals 
— that  the  period  to  be  known  as  the  New  Ar- 
gonautic  in  the  far  future,  to  be  sung  as  Virgil 
sung  the  arrival  of  iEneas  in  Italy,  shall  be  ex- 
tended by  a whole  twelvemonth,  so  as  to  admit 
to  fame  the  tardy  multitude  who  followed  on 
the  heels  of  their  betters.  Forbid  it,  spirits  of 
adventure  and  romance!  Forbid  it,  ghosts  of 
Yerba  Buena!  Forbid  it,  ye  noble  army  of  can- 
vas-backed heroes,  wherever  ye  may  be,  in  the 
flesh  or  out  of  it,  who  smoked  together  over  the 
camp  fires  of  ’Forty-nine,  and  dug  deep  for  the 
glittering  ore. 

u There  is  a class  of  pioneers  who  put  in  no 
chronological  claims  to  distinction,  who  have 
come  here  at  various  times  during  the  last  hun- 
dred years,  and  are  still  coming,  who  are  con- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


17 


tent  to  work  without  special  recognition,  to  do 
all  the  good  they  can  without  making  a fuss 
about  it,  and  to  die  without  a newspaper  notice 
or  society  resolution.  These  men  are  not  con- 
cerned in  this  ungracious  rivalry,  and  these  men 
we  do  not  address.  Whether  they  came  in  one 
year  or  another,  and  whether  anybody  knows 
or  cares  when  they  came,  is  nothing  to  them. 
When  we  find  people  so  indifferent  to  the 
noblest  passion  of  the  race,  it  is  the  best  to  let 
them  toil  on  in  their  unnoticed  way.  Like  the 
coral  insects  in  the  sea,  they  may,  however,  be 
building  monuments,  that  will  rise  and  speak 
for  them  when  they  are  gone  where  dates  are 
unknown  and  where  fame  is  not.” 


The  old  resident  who  will  stand  to-day  on 
the  corner  of  Montgomery  and  Sacramento 
streets,  or  even  at  the  corner  of  Leidesdorff,  and 
look  to  the  corner  of  Sansome,  can  hardly  real- 
ize that  Dali  & Austin’s  store  was  no  farther 
down  Sacramento  street  than  the  northeast 
corner  of  Sansome.  It  used  to  seem  a long  way 
across  the  water  to  their  store,  standing  on  the 
little  pier  which  was  the  commencement  of  San- 
some, at  the  corner  of  Sacramento ; and,  when 
one  had  walked  the  length  of  Howison’s  Pier 
(now  Sacramento  street)  to  Hoff’s  store,  on  its 
extreme  end,  at  the  corner  of  Battery  street,  he 
seemed  well  on  the  way  to  Contra  Costa.  Many 


18 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


people  cannot  remember  the  appearance  or  po- 
sition of  the  buildings  as  they  stood  in  ’49  and 
’ 50,  unless  refreshed  by  verbal  description,  or 
some  lithograph  of  that  time.  It  would  be  very 
interesting  to  look  over  a collection  of  all  the 
old  lithographs  that  have  been  made  in  the- 
last  twenty-four  years.  Some  of  the  houses  of 
’ 49  are  standing  exactly  where  they  were  origi- 
nally built,  and  some  have  been  moved  to  new 
locations. 

The  two-story  wooden  house  on  California 
street,  north  side,  corner  of  the  alley  just  above 
Kearny  street,  was  built  in  1849  by  Dr.  Jones, 
who  may  be  remembered  by  the  old  residents. 
The  doctor  was  an  eccentric  individual.  He  wore 
a long,  velvet-lined  voluminous  cloak,  with  the 
air  of  a Spanish  Grandee.  It  was  said  in  those 
days,  that  the  doctor  had  more  gold-dust  than 
any  man  in  California.  Those  who  knew  him 
most  intimately,  used  to  tell  a story  of  his 
spreading  sheets  over  the  floor  of  his  sleeping 
apartment,  pouring  his  gold-dust  upon  them, 
and  walking  upon  it,  pushing  his  feet  through 
it,  taking  it  up  in  his  hands,  and  pouring  it 
upon  his  head  and  shoulders,  and  rolling  in  it 
— performing  Jupiter  and  Danse,  with  Dr.  Jones 
in  both  characters.  During  his  sprees,  and  the 
doctor  was  often  under  the  influence,  he  was 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


19 


f 

fond  of  indulging  in  great  absurdities.  The 
doctor  sold  at  one  sale  seventy-one  lots,  and 
liberally  treated  his  friends  at  “ Our  House/ 7 on 
Washington  street,  just  above  Dunbar’ s Alley. 
Dr.  Wallace  purchased  and  occupied  for  many 
years  the  Dr.  Jones  house. 

“Our  House”  was  kept  by  Peter  Sherrebeck, 
on  the  lower  portion  of  the  fifty-vara  lot  on 
the  southeast  corner  of  Washington  and  Kearny 
streets,  the  same  formerly  occupied  by  the  El 
Dorado,  now  by  the  Hall  of  Records.  There  was 
no  bar  or  counter  for  the  dispensing  of  liquids. 
There  was  a table  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
upon  which  the  wines  and  spirits  were  placed, 
as  in  a private  house.  The  name  of  Sherrebeck 
has  been  famous  in  our  law  courts  in  litigation 
for  the  property  on  Folsom  and  Second  streets. 
Sherrebeck  was  a German,  and  came  to  San 
Francisco  in  1846  or  ’47. 

Montgomery  street  was  not  graded  in  the 
spring  of  ’50.  It  was  like  any  hill-side,  with  a 
gradual  slope.  Hot  that  it  was  so  very  gradual 
either,  for  the  western  side  was  several  feet 
higher  than  the  eastern.  Long  Wharf,  now 
Commercial  street,  opened  into  the  eastern  side 
of  Montgomery,  but  was  not  then  cut  through 
the  other  side  of  it,  as  it  now  is,  to  Kearny.  A 
large  wooden  building,  with  a very  high.,  broad 


20 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


roof,  the  eaves  of  which  projected  over  the 
benches,  ranged  against  the  side  wall  on  Mont- 
gomery street,  now  the  northwest  corner  of 
Commercial  street.  The  front  of  this  house  faced 
the  south,  and  on  these  benches  sat  or  lounged 
Mexicans  and  Chilenos,  in  their  native  cos- 
tumes, rolling  up  cigarettes,  and  smoking  phil- 
osophically over  their  losses — for  the  building 
was  used  on  the  lower  floor  as  a gambling  sa- 
loon. A large  American  flag  was  displayed  over 
the  door  ; strains  of  music — good  music,  too — 
floated  upon  the  air;  crowds  of  men  of  many 
nations  were  passing  in  and  out.  Within,  many 
tables  were  spread  with  games:  faro,  monte, 
roulette,  chuck-a-luck,  etc.,  around  which  men 
were  standing  as  closely  as  possible — betting, 
winning  and  losing,  as  quietly  and  earnestly  as 
typos  setting  up  copy.  The  music  of  the  band, 
the  tinkle  of  the  dealers’  bells,  calling  the  waiters 
for  drinks  and  cigars,  and  the  subdued  click  of 
ivory  checks,  and  clink  of  coin,  went  on  inces- 
santly, but  a man’s  voice  was  rarely  heard. 
The  players  reached  out  their  stakes,  laying 
them  upon  the  card  on  which  they  wished  to  bet, 
or,  if  it  were  beyond  their  reach,  handed  it  to 
some  one  to  place  for  them,  indicating  by  a sim- 
ple monosyllable,  spoken  scarcely  above  a whis- 
per, the  card  whereon  to  place  it.  The  dealer 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


21 


sat,  with  unmoved  features,  until  all  had  staked 
their  money,  and,  with  a nod,  dealt  the  chances. 

The  scenes  were  just  the  same  in  the  u Ton- 
tine/ ’ opposite,  on  the  corner  of  Long  Wharf, 
in  the  Bella  Union,  La  Sociedad,  El  Dorado, 
The  Empire,  Parker  House,  Yeranda,  and  all 
the  gambling  saloons.  Those  upon  the  Plaza 
were  more  elegantly  furnished  and  decorated ; 
longer,  and  more  gaily  appointed  bars,  flanked 
by  great  mirrors,  pictures,  glass  and  silverware. 
Cosmopolitan  crowds  flocked  to  the  counter 
and  around  the  tables,  and  in  and  out  of  the 
many  entrances;  the  air  was  heavy  with  the 
odor  of  burning  slow-match,  or  Chinese  punk, 
for  cigar  lights,  lying  smoking  in  little  minia- 
ture junks,  at  convenient  distances,  along  the 
far- stretching  bar;  and  incessant  was  the  chink 
of  golden  ounces  and  Mexican  dollars  in  the 
hands  of  the  players  at  every  table. 

It  was  easy  to  tell  the  habitual  gamblers,  by 
the  way  they  slid  so  skillfully,  from  hand  to 
hand,  the  rolls  of  coin,  smoothly  and  swiftly,  with 
unerring  certainty — pulling  out  the  cylindrical 
piles,  and  gliding  them  again  together,  like  lit- 
tle telescopes.  Crowds  of  men,  who  never  gam- 
bled a dollar  in  all  their  lives,  came,  led  by  cu- 
riosity, to  pass  the  time  and  hear  the  music, 
which  was  well  worth  listening  to.  Everybody 


22 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


went  there — for  homes,  reading-rooms  and  good 
society  were  rare  in  San  Francisco  at  that  time. 

The  building  which  we  have  mentioned  as 
standing  on  the  place  now  known  as  the  north- 
west corner  of  Commercial  and  Montgomery 
streets,  was  in  1848,  and  previously,  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company’s  House.  It  was  a large 
wooden  structure,  two  and  a half  stories,  with 
a high,  sloping  roof,  facing  the  south.  In  1852, 
some  laborers,  digging  a sewer  in  Commercial 
street,  came  upon  a long,  narrow  wooden  box, 
which,  on  the  removal  of  the  earth,  proved  to  be 
a coffin.  The  awed  workmen  brushed  the  loose 
earth  away  from  the  oval  glass,  revealing,  with 
ghastly  distinctness,  the  grayish-white  face  of 
the  dead.  Singularly  enough,  the  brow,  the 
eyelids,  nostrils,  lips — all  the  features — retained 
their  form,  calm  and  peaceful,  while,  to  the 
gazer’s  eyes,  a sudden  fancy  seemed  to  catch 
upon  the  dead  man’ s face — a look  of  sad  remon- 
strance with  the  pressing  throng’s  sacrilegious 
stare  of  vulgar  curiosity,  intruding  even  on  the 
grave  of  the  long-buried  dead. 

Crowds  of  people  came  to  look;  to  turn  away, 
wondering  who  this  long-buried,  silent  sleeper, 
thus  suddenly  revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the 
moon,  could  be ; how  his  grave  happened  to  be 
there,  exactly  in  the  centre  of  that  noisy,  pop- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


23 


ulous  thoroughfare,  resounding  with  the  crou- 
pier’s vociferous  “ Rouge  jperd  et  la  couleur /”  the 
ceaseless  clink  of  coin  at  lansquenet  ; the  gay 
music  of  instrumental  hands  in  the  gambling 
saloons;  laughter,  song  and  imprecations,  and 
the  never-ceasing  tread  of  eager  and  excited 
men,  all  unconscious  of  the  silent  form  beneath 
their  feet. 

Among  all  the  curious  gazers,  none  knew 
those  wonderfully  preserved  features,  once  so 
familiar  to  many — so  dear,  surely,  to  some. 
Who  could  explain  this  mystery?  At  last, 
Mr.  Bond,  the  confidential  secretary  of  Wm. 
I).  M.  Howard,  came  that  way,  and  he  knew 
that  the  ground  was  formerly  the  garden  of 
the  house  occupied  by  Wm.  A.  Rae,  agent  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  who  rashly  ended 
his  life  in  1846,  and  was  buried  in  the  then 
peaceful  garden  spot,  where  he  had  so  long  slept 
unmolested. 


24 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Custom  House  stood  on  the  corner  of 
California  and  Montgomery  streets.  It  was 
built  by  Wm.  H.  Davis,  in  October,  1849.  The 
stairs  were  on  the  outside,  ending  at  each  story, 
across  which  ran  a veranda,  or  broad  balcony. 
Collier  was  the  Collector  of  the  Port  in  1849-50, 
and  Jesse  D.  Carr  was  the  Deputy  Collector. 
This  building  was  built  of  brick,  four  stories  in 
height,  and  the  wood-work  front  painted  white. 

Ken  dig  & Wain  wright  occupied  the  next 
building  adjoining  north.  Wells,  Fargo  & Co’s 
offices  now  stand  on  the  ground  where  these 
buildings  stood.  Wainwright  afterwards  took 
a store  on  Montgomery,  between  Clay  street 
and  what  is  now  Merchant  street;  and  his  auc- 
tion advertisements  in  the  Alta  California  of 
that  day  informed  the  people  that  they  could 
lighter  goods  directly  from  the  back  doors  of  his 
salerooms  to  the  steamers,  quite  an  inducement 
to  those  wishing  to  save  drayage,  which  was  no 
small  item  in  the  account  of  large  purchasers. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


25 


T.  J.  Poulterer’s  auction  store  was  on  the 
northwest  corner  of  California  and  Montgomery, 
in  Edward  Yischer’s  building;  the  spot  where 
W.  H.  Davies  built  the  Custom  House,  in  Oc- 
tober, ’49,  just  where  Wells,  Fargo  & Co’s 
banking  house  now  stands.  Sam.  Grower  was 
with  Mr.  Poulterer  then,  and  they  paid  twenty- 
five  hundred  dollars  per  month  rent  for  their 
store,  and  rented  the  “ up-stairs”  to  Mr.  Crane, 
of  the  Courier  newspaper,  for  one  thousand  dol- 
lars per  month.  Many  of  our  old  residents  will 
remember  Mr.  Glower;  he  was  a native  of  Aus- 
tria, a gentleman  of  the  most  agreeable  manners 
and  person — accomplished  in  music,  languages, 
literature  and  mercantile  affairs.  Many  years 
have  gone  since  Mr.  Glower  left  California,  but 
his  face  would  be  very  welcome  should  he  re- 
turn to  meet  the  men  of  ’ 50. 

On  the  south  side  of  California  street,  where 
Stevenson’s  building  now  stands,  were  some 
little  wooden  structures,  where  Capt.  Folsom, 
Q.  M.  U.  S.  A.,  had  his  offices.  Capt.  Folsom 
had  purchased  the  Leidesdorff  estate,  and  it 
was  here  the  Leidesdorff  House  stood  in  1849. 
It  did  not  stand  on  the  street  line,  but  diag- 
onally, like  the  Casa  Grande1  built  by  Mr.  Rich- 
ardson, on  Dupont  street,  between  Clay  and 
Washington,  and  Wm.  H.  Davis’  house,  near 


26 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  corner  of  Stockton  and  Jackson.  The  road 
to  the  Presidio  was  along  this  line,  upon  which 
the  houses  stood. 

On  California  street,  above  Montgomery,  in 
1849,  the  tents  were  pitched  in  the  middle  of 
the  street,  anywhere  the  dwellers  chose,  and  in- 
terspersed with  boxes,  and  bales  of  goods,  and 
piles  of  lumber.  There  was  an  open  space, 
about  where  Mars’  assay  office  now  stands,  on 
California  street,  through  which  one  could  pass 
behind  the  Custom  House  and  adjoining  stores, 
and  come  out  upon  Montgomery  street,  where 
Bullock  & Jones  now  have  their  place  of  busi- 
ness. Edward  Vischer,  Esq.,  the  author  and 
artist  of  “The  Old  Missions  of  California,”  lived 
in  a cottage  on  this  spot,  accessible  from  either 
street.  Mr.  Meacham  also  lived  in  his  house 
near  Mr.  Yischer’ s.  Subsequently,  Howe,  the 
pioneer  of  ring  amusements,  had  on  this  spot 
the  Olympic  Circus. 

Mr.  Bowe  went  from  California  to  Australia, 
where  he  was  very  successful.  On  his  return,  he 
brought  $95,000  in  sovereigns.  He  also  brought 
a beautiful  design,  in  gold — a group  emblematical 
of  equine  sports — as  a gift  for  Wm.  E.  M.  Howard, 
who,  with  his  proverbial  generosity,  had  aided 
Mr.  Rowe  in  times  gone  by.  The  costly  token 
was  exhibited  in  a jeweler’s  window  on  Mont- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


27 


gomery  street  at  the  time.  We  are  glad  to  record 
this  evidence  of  gratitude,  wishing  ourselves 
possessed  of  an  amount  equal  to  that  never  re- 
turned by  those  indebted  to  the  most  generous 
of  California’ s pioneers. 

The  old  road,  or  path,  to  the  Mission  Dolores 
in  ’49  or  ’ 50  was  the  same  as  had  been  used  for 
eighty  years  prior  to  the  gold  discovery — a 
winding  way  among  the  sand-hills  and  chapar- 
ral, keeping  to  the  level,  solid  ground,  and 
avoiding  the  deep,  toilsome  sand.  Col.  Hays’ 
house  was  the  half-way  stopping-place  between 
the  city  and  the  Mission.  At  the  Mission,  Bob 
Ridley  and  C.  V.  Stuart  kept  the  Mansion 
House,  part  of  the  old  Mission  building,  adjoin- 
ing the  church,  just  as  it  stands  to-day.  The 
long  rail  of  the  veranda  was  the  hitching-post 
for  the  saddle-horses;  a vehicle  was  rather  a 
curiosity  until  the  plank-road  was  constructed. 
In  the  afternoon,  the  horses  stood  thick  and 
close,  like  a cavalry  halt,  at  Bob  Ridley’ s door. 
Within,  milk-punch  was  always  plentiful,  like 
the  lager  of  later,  degenerate  years.  Nearly  all 
the  residents  of  San  Francisco  in  those  days 
rode  horseback,  used  the  Mexican  saddle  and 
all  the  jingling  accoutrements;  wore  the  vicuna 
hat,  or  broad-brimmed  glazed  sombrero , and 


28 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  comfortable,  convenient,  protecting  serapa. 
The  new  comers  were  pleased  with  costume 
de  la  Pais — its  novelty  and  its  easy  negligence. 
Everybody  was  cordial,  prosperous  and  happy. 

We  were  out  at  the  Mission  one  warm,  pleasant 
Sunday  morning,  not  long  ago,  sitting  upon  a 
bench  in  front  of  the  old  Mansion  House.  We 
closed  our  eyes  to  shut  out  the  street-car;  the 
blocks  of  modern  buildings;  cottages  ornee;  the 
fashionable,  scant,  nipped-looking  coats  and  skin- 
tight pants  of  the  scores  of  men  continually 
passing;  the  ridiculous  head-gear  and  swollen, 
puffed-out  paniers  of  the  gentler  sex.  As  we 
sat  with  closed  eyes,  the  atmosphero  was  just 
the  same  upon  our  cheek,  just  as  refreshing  to 
our  lungs,  had  precisely  the  same  somnolent 
effect  stealing  over  our  senses.  Sleep  used  to 
be  called  the  California  fever,  before  the  gold 
discovery,  and  we  fell  into  a reverie  of  the  past. 
We  heard  the  jingling  spurs,  we  saw  the  gay,  sil- 
ver-mounted bridles,  the  fancy  saddles,  the  rush- 
ing horse  and  rider,  dashing  up  at  full  speed  di- 
rectly at  us,  sitting  upon  the  veranda,  seemingly 
intent  upon  riding  us  down  madly;  but, just  as 
we  were  springing  in  consternation  from  our 
seat,  the  horse  was  upon  his  haunches — there 
was  a crunching  of  hoofs  upon  the  gravel,  a 
confused  rattling  of  spurs,  snorting,  champing 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


29 


of  the  cruel  Mexican  bit — a cloud  of  dust  over 
all — and,  when  we  had  collected  our  startled 
ideas  sufficiently  to  feel  assured  we  were  not 
beneath  the  horse’s  hoofs,  we  saw  the  dis- 
mounted caballero  taking  from  the  pommel  the 
long-coiled  riata  to  “ hitch”  his  steed,  prepar- 
atory to  imbibing  one  of  Bob  Ridley’ s nourish- 
ing milk-punches.  It  was  trying  to  the  new- 
comer’ s nerves  to  learn  the  California  style  of 
riding  up  to  dismount — to  sit  quietly  and  see 
horse  and  rider  dashing  at  full  speed  directly 
for  you,  as  if  both  were  bent  upon  dashing 
through  the  wall  of  the  house,  nor  abating  in 
the  least  their  speed  until  within  five  feet  of 
you,  then  stopped  with  a shock — sudden  as  if 
struck  by  lightning.  We  sat  upon  the  old  bench, 
enjoying  the  warm  sun  and  the  same  delight- 
ful atmosphere  we  breathed  twenty-odd  years 
ago,  shutting  our  eyes  to  the  sights  of  to-day, 
and  looking  back  upon  the  memories — the  men 
we  saw  when  first  we  knew  the  Mission  Dolores: 
El  Senores  Valencia,  Noe,  Guerrero,  De  Haro, 
Bernal  and  Charley  Brown,  who  came  there  in 
1829;  Messrs.  Denniston  and  Nuttman,  of  Ste- 
venson’s Regiment,  and  Jack  Powers,  always 
well  mounted,  and  dashing  along  to  show  the 
merits  of  his  nag.  Jack  Powers!  with  black 
beard  and  flowing  hair — his  glittering,  restless, 


30 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


omnivagant  eye  — the  worst  we  ever  looked 
upon  in  any  living  creature — a fascinating  ter- 
ror— sure  index  of  the  devil,  time  eventually 
proved  him  to  be. 

Our  reverie,  so  long  and  deep,  is  broken.  A 
procession  of  Holy  Fathers,  in  sacerdotal  robes 
and  church  insignia!  What  saint’s  day  is  this? 
How  the  sight  of  their  bowed  heads,  slow,  sol- 
emn step  and  chant,  with  burning  candles,  brings 
back  the  olden  days.  We  had  thought  this 
custom  unobserved  of  late  in  our  busy  city 
neighborhood.  In  the  true  spirit  of  old-time 
respect,  we  rise  to  lift  our  hat  and  stand  with 
head  bowed  and  uncovered  while  they  pass.  It 
seems — eh?  how  confusing — they  never  used  to 
shake  such  a harsh  bell  as  that!  My  head  is — 
well,  sure  enough,  I was  asleep! — blinking  in 
the  sunlight.  I now  discern  a man  gesticulating 
violently  to  me.  ’ Tis  he,  ringing  the  harsh,  dis- 
cordant bell  that  swept  away  the  Holy  Fathers 
— rudely,  with  lightning  speed ! dragging  me 
back,  over  more  than  twenty  years  of  life’ s 
uneven  road — away  from  the  vesper-bells,  the 
soft  evening  air,  the  low,  sweet  music  of  her 

voice,  breathing  la  lengna  de  los  angeles , to 

u All  aboard,  now,  for  the  city!”  Harsh  and 
discordant  clash  these  selfish  days  against  the 
memory  of  those  halcyon  hours.  Alas  ! why 
could  we  not  still  dream? 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


31 


There  was  another  road,  or  path,  for  horse- 
men and  pedestrians,  by  which  one  might  reach 
the  old  Mission  track.  It  was  along  Kearny, 
turning  by  Caryll’ s stable,  up  Bush  street  to 
the  hill,  where  a sharp  turn  brought  you  before 
the  house  built  by  Judge  Burritt — the  same 
since  occupied  by  Lucien  Hermann,  and  until 
quite  recently  by  Hr.  A.  J.  Bowie.  As  this 
pretty  cottage  now  stands,  on  the  corner  of 
Sutter  and  Stockton,  flanked  by  regular  side- 
walks, the  lofty  synagogue  towering  above  it, 
and  blocks  of  houses,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see 
in  every,  direction,  it  does  not  give  the  passer- 
by that  pleasurable  start  of  emotion  experienced 
by  him  who,  winding  his  way  among  the  desert 
of  sandhills  and  chaparral  twenty-two  years  ago, 
came  suddenly  upon  the  bright,  new,  stylish 
residence — its  nicely  curtained,  spotless  win- 
dows, perfect  roof,  and  finished  chimneys,  neat 
porch,  veranda,  paths  and  door-way,  lying  in  the 
warm  sunlight,  nestling  among  the  cheerless  sand- 
hills, like  a sweet  bit  of  our  old  home  spirited 
across  the  continent  by  fairies’  wand,  and  softly 
dropped  among  the  unsightly  huts  and  fragile 
tenements  in  which  we  lived — a gentle  admoni- 
tion that  we  might  give  a little  less  of  heart  and 
soul  to  money,  and  a little  more  to  comfort, 
beauty  and  utility.  He  who  had  been  turned 


32 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES. 


on  a reflective  vein  by  this  unexpected  vision 
of  a home  in  the  wilderness,  then  traveled  down 
the  line  of  Stockton  across  Sutter,  Post,  Geary 
and  O’ Farrell,  his  horse’s  hoofs  noiseless,  plung- 
ing at  every  step  knee-deep  in  unresisting  sand ; 
saddle  and  bridle  trappings  jingling,  a clink  of 
spurs,  and  the  deep  breathing  of  the  horse ; sad- 
dle-leather creaking  with  every  step,  but  not  a 
sound  of  hoof  in  the  soft,  sinking  sand,  more 
than  a phantom  horse  — on,  past  O’ Farrell  to 
Ellis,  around  Mr.  John  Sullivan’s  cottage  into 
St.  Ann’s  Valley,  skirting  the  gardens  and  hot- 
houses— the  remnant  of  which  still  remains  on 
Eddy,  between  Powell  and  Mason — where  the 
path  wound  in  and  out  among  sand  mounds  and 
ridges,  piled  up  like  dirty  snow-drifts,  with  here 
and  there  a charcoal-burner’ s hut,  and  clumps 
of  scrub-oaks,  until  he  came  to  Col.  Thomas 
Hayes’  house,  where  it  was  customary  to  stop 
awhile,  for  there  were  always  many  there,  chat- 
ting, while  their  horses  rested.  This  long, 
white  house  stood  diagonally  with  the  Mission 
road,  in  a little,  open  space,  wdiere  ground  was 
firmer  than  the  deep  sand  outside  the  circle  of 
small  trees  and  shrubs  surrounding  it — a spot 
where  one  would  naturally  halt  to  rest,  were 
there  no  hospitable  roof  upon  it.  A little  fur- 
ther on,  a turn  to  the  right,  brought  the  trav- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


33 


eler  on  the  old  Mission  road,  where  soon  he 
crossed  a little,  shallow,  slow,  but  limpid  brook, 
edged  by  willows,  running  across  the  Harmen 
tract,  and  down  MacClaren’ s lane  toward  Mis- 
sion Creek.  The  same  brook’ s course,  diverted, 
now  runs  through  Woodward’ s Gardens,  refresh- 
ing the  pelicans  and  pink-billed  swans.  Past  this 
stream,  the  rider  turned  diagonally  across  the 
block  now  bounded  by  Mission  and  Center 
streets,  and  halted  at  the  Mansion  House. 

On  the  old  Mission  road,  many  years  ago — 
twenty  or  more — was  a little  roadside  public- 
house,  called  “The  Grizzly.”  We  do  not  re- 
member its  precise  location,  but  it  was  very 
near  the  turn  of  the  road,  just  before  you  came 
(going  Mission-ward)  to  the  cottages  of  It.  C. 
Page,  C.  It.  Peters  and  E.  H.  Parker.  “The 
Grizzly’  ’ stood  a little  way  from  the  road,  on  the 
north  side,  and  surrounded  by  scrub-oaks.  A 
little  brown  bear — what  is  known  as  the  cinna- 
mon bear — was  chained  to  the  trunk  of  one  of 
these  oak  trees,  and  whenever  we  passed  there, 
which  was  almost  every  day,  for  years,  the  bear 
was  leaning  forward  to  the  full  stretch  of  his 
chain,  treading  from  side  to  side,  with  that  pe- 
culiar rocking  step  and  swaying  movement  of 
caged  wild  beasts.  He  must  have  been  quiet 
at  some  time,  of  course,  but  we  never  saw  him 
3 


34 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


when  not  treading  his  incessant  step.  We  often 
halted  there,  lingering  awhile,  to  see  if  he  would 
not  he  quiet;  hut  his  monotonous  and  never 
ceasing  movement  so  disquieted,  and  in  a certain 
indescribable  way,  confused  our  nerve  and 
vision,  that  we  always  gave  it  up. 

We  never  knew  whether  this  cinnamon  bruin 
was  the  successor  to  some  genuine  grizzly  cub, 
the  possession  of  which  induced  its  owner  to 
build  and  name  the  inn,  under  the  impression 
that  symposiac  profits  would  accrue  from  visitors 
curious  to  see  the  ursine  captive;  or  whether, 
after  building  this  traveler’ s retreat,  his  patro- 
nymic project  failed  by  sheer  inability  to  find  a 
grizzly,  forcing  him  to  compromise  with  the 
cinnamon.  But,  most  certainly  the  name  upon 
the  signboard  was  a misnomer,  if  the  chained 
specimen  of  the  genus  ursus  cinnamominus  were 
offered  as  an  adjunct  corroboration. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


35 


CHAPTER  III. 

Pioche  & Bayerque  had  their  store  on  the 
north  side  of  Clay  street,  just  below  Kearny.  Da- 
vidson’ s bank  was  just  below  them.  Then  came 
Bennett  & Kirby’s  store;  William  Hobourg  was 
a partner  in  their  house.  Bagley  & Sinton  were 
adjoining.  Cross,  Hobson  & Co.  were  opposite. 
The  Adelphi  Theater  was  about  half  way  between 
Kearny  and  Montgomery  streets,  on  the  south 
side  of  Clay,  and  was  used  for  theatrical  per- 
formances, concerts,  balls,  etc.  W.  H.  Lyon 
kept  the  bar  of  the  theater.  Riddle  & Co’s 
auction  store  was  not  built  on  the  corner  of 
Clay  and  Montgomery  until  July  or  August, 
1850.  Etting  Mickle’s  store  was  on  the  north 
side  of  Clay,  between  Montgomery  and  Leides- 
dorff.  Selim  and  Fred.  Woodworth’s  store  was 
just  at  the  water’ s edge,  on  the  north  side  of 
Clay.  Below,  on  the  wharf,  were  the  stores  of 
J.  J.  Chariteau,  Simmons,  Hutchinson  & Co., 
F.  Yassault,  and  the  office  of  the  Sacramento 
steamers.  Fay,  Pierce  & Willis  were  commis- 


36 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


sion  merchants  on  the  corner  of  Clay  and  Mont- 
gomery. 

Jno.  B.  Corrigan  was  a commission  merchant 
on  Clay  street  wharf.  Mr.  Corrigan  went  to 
Washoe  in  the  earliest  days  of  silver  mining, 
and  died  there.  He  was  a noble-hearted,  genial 
man,  and  his  memory  is  kindly  cherished  in  the 
hearts  of  all  who  knew  him. 

Moorhead,  Whitehead  & Waddington  were  at 
the  foot  of  Clay  street.  This  was  a Valparaiso 
firm,  doing  business  in  San  Francisco,  dealing 
in  flour  by  the  cargo.  Hochkofler  & Tenequel 
were  near  by.  Mr.  Hochkofler  came  from  Val- 
pariso  with  a member  of  the  firm  of  Morehead, 
Whitehead  & Waddington,  via  Panama,  and  ar- 
rived here  on  the  sixth  of  June,  1850,  on  board 
the  steam-propeller  Columbus , Capt.  Peck. 

Capt.  Frank  Eldredge,  Chas.  Peck  (of  Ste- 
venson’s Regiment),  Mr.  Beck  (Beck  & Elam), 
Jno.  F.  Osgood,  James  George,  Capt.  Treadwell, 
Capt.  Chadwick,  Messrs.  Barry  & Patten,  Theo. 
Nash,  Mr.  Dewey,  John  Corson,  James  Howard, 
John  Ling,  Dr.  Smiley,  Sawyer  & Chapin,  and 
many  others  whose  names  we  cannot  now  re- 
call, were  passengers  on  the  same  steamer. 

We  remember  as  vividly  as  if  it  were  but  yes- 
terday the  arrival  of  the  Columbus.  In  those 
days  there  were  few  wharves  for  the  vessels  to 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


37 


swing  alongside  of,  so  they  dropped  anchor  out 
in  the  stream,  where  they  were  surrounded  hy 
boats  to  convey  passengers  and  baggage  ashore. 
One  new  comer  by  the  Columbus  had  a fine  bunch 
of  pine-apples,  purchased  at  San  Bias  for  unpeso , 
and  carefully  preserved  for  the  San  Francisco 
market.  He  had  hardly  set  foot  on  Montgomery 
street,  when  a man  hailed  him  with,  “D’ye  want 
to  sell  them?”  “Well,  yes!”  “How  much?” 
The  amateur  importer  of  tropical  fruits  looked 
at  his  questioner,  and,  with  the  air  of  a man 
who  was  venturing  on  an  absurdity  which  would 
never  be  entertained  for  one  moment,  said — 
“Well,  you  may  have  them  for  ten  dollars!” 
“Here’s  your  money!”  said  the  man,  clutching 
the  pine-apples,  and  thrusting  a ten  dollar  piece 
into  the  hand  of  the  astonished  individual,  who, 
for  a moment,  could  not  realize  that  it  was  his 
first  negotiation  on  the  shores  of  his  adopted 
home,  and  not  a joke.  He  was  not  long  in 
doubt,  however.  Two  or  three  men  had  stop- 
ped on  the  street  to  look  at  the  tempting  fruit 
while  the  bargain  was  being  made.  One  of  them 
said  to  the  purchaser,  “How  many  are  there?” 
“Six!”  “Want  to  sell  ’em?”  “No!”  “Will 

yer  sell  three  of  ’em?”  “Yes!”  “Quanto?" 
“Fifteen  dollars!”  “Here’ s your  dinero"  said 
the  man,  handing  over  three  five-dollar  pieces, 


38 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


and  walking  off  like  one  greatly  pleased  with 
his  purchase.  The  Columbus  passenger  was  ob- 
served to  walk  away  with  that  peculiar  expres- 
sion of  countenance  noticeable  in  new  students 
of  Euclid. 

Ogden  & Haynes  were  commission  merchants 
on  Clay  street  wdiarf.  They  had  ships  from 
China.  We  remember  the  arrival  of  the  Fanny 
Major  from  China,  with  a cargo  of  teas,  shawls, 
silks,  fancy  furniture,  etc.  Billy  Buckler,  of 
Baltimore,  had  goods  on  the  vessel,  and  on  her 
arrival,  he  came  ashore  with  a couple  of 
grotesque  stoneware  images  under  his  arm, 
and  brought  them  up  to  Barry  & Patten,  just 
for  a joke  with  his  old  friends.  They  received 
them,  drank  the  health  of  the  donor,  and  placed 
them  behind  their  counter,  where  they  stand 
to-day,  old  and  time-honored  citizens,  though 
ineligible  for  the  Association  of  Pioneers.  Og- 
den & Haynes  were  liberal,  public-spirited  men, 
without  fuss  or  ostentation.  Mr.  Haynes  has 
gone  to  the  reward  of  all  good  men.  Mr.  Ogden 
is  still  with  us;  and  if  there  be  any  change  in 
his  personal  appearance  as  we  knew  him  twenty- 
three  years  ago,  our  eyes  fail  to  detect  it. 

It  is  a pleasure  to  observe  any  man  through 
nearly  a quarter  of  a century’ s vicissitudes  and 
temptations,  in  a city  where  cosmopolitan  allure- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


39 


ments  have  gathered  in  force,  and  to  note, 
through  all,  no  loss  of  that  refinement  of  taste 
and  feeling ; no  blunting  of  that  aesthetic  appre- 
ciation, the  possession  of  which  preserves  the 
mind,  even  as  pure  air  and  temperance  does  the 
body.  Mr.  Ogden  is  a facile  writer,  and  often 
contributes  to  the  newspapers  of  San  Francisco. 
Mr.  John  Haynes,  a brother  of  the  late  Thomas 
Haynes,  Mr.  Ogden’s  former  partner,  is  a res- 
ident of  San  Francisco,  having  arrived  here  on 
the  steamer  Columbus , June  6th,  1850. 

The  Hon.  John  W.  Dwinelle  and  his  brother, 
the  Hon.  Samuel  H.  Dwinelle,  were  counsellors- 
at-law  in  Cross,  Hobson  & Co’s  building  on 
Clay  street,  nearly  opposite  Bagley  & Sinton’ s 
store.  S.  H.  Dwinelle  is  now  the  Judge  of  the 
Fifteenth  District  Court,  and  esteemed  by  the 
members  of  the  bar  of  California  as  one  of  the 
best  lawyers  and  most  upright  Judges  in  the 
State.  J.  W.  Dwinelle  is  one  of  the  ablest  mem- 
bers of  the  bar,  a Begent  of  the  University  of 
California,  and  as  a conversationalist  the  peer 
of  Dr.  A.  J.  Bowie,  Judge  Hoffman,  or  the  late 
Hon.  Mr.Dela  Torre,  U.  S.  District  Attorney  for 
California. 

Cross,  Hobson  & Co.  afterwards  removed 
to  the  large  corrugated-iron  warehouse  on  San- 
some  street,  between  Jackson  and  Pacific,  where 


40 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


William  Hooper  also  had  an  office.  We  never 
pass  this  old  iron  store  without  recalling  (as  we 
look  at  the  broad  loft  door,  just  above  the  main 
entrance  on  Sansome  street)  a tragic  occurrence 
which  happened  there  in  1851.  Pedro,  the 
porter  of  the  store,  was  standing  at  the  open 
doorway  of  the  loft,  speaking  to  some  one  on 
the  walk  below,  when  leaning  forward  to  hear 
more  distinctly,  he  fell  out,  struck  upon  his 
head,  and  died  instantaneously.  Pedro  was  a 
native  of  Manila;  a pleasant,  faithful  servant, 
who  had  the  regard  of  all  who  knew  him. 

Woodworth  & Morris  were  shipping  and  com- 
mission-merchants on  Clay  street  wharf.  Selim 
E.  Woodworth  (subsequently  Commodore  Wood- 
worth,  U.  S.  N.)  was  the  senior  member  of  this 
firm.  Fred.  A.  Woodworth,  a younger  brother, 
was  in  the  same  house.  Selim  arrived  in  San 
Francisco  in  the  winter  of  1846-7,  and  built  the 
first  house  ever  erected  upon  a “water-lot”  in 
San  Francisco.  Some  time  after  his  arrival,  news 
reached  the  city  of  a party  of  emigrants  dying 
of  starvation  on  the  mountain  trail  to  California, 
and  he  immediately  started  with  a party  to  their 
rescue,  and  succeeded  in  saving  many  of  them, 
although  several  had  died,  and  the  living,  when 
found  by  Mr.  Woodworth’s  party,  were  eating 
the  dead  bodies  of  their  unfortunate  compan- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


41 


ions.  All  through  his  life  in  California,  Selim 
Woodworth  was  foremost  in  acts  of  charity,  and 
in  the  protection  of  life  and  property,  or  the 
swift  punishment  of  outlaws  and  criminals.  He 
was  small  in  stature,  hut  had  the  bravery  and 
spirit  of  a giant,  never  to  be  intimidated  either 
by  threats  or  force  of  arms.  To  his  courage  and 
determination  San  Francisco  owes  more  than  to 
any  other  man  its  release  from  the  criminals  that 
infested  it  in  the  early  days.  Both  Selim  and 
Fred.  Woodworth  made  their  abode-at  their  store 
in  the  primitive  times,  and  in  their  family  resi- 
dence in  after  years — extremely  pleasant  to  their 
umerous  friends,  who  remember  with  a sad 
pleasure  the  happy  hours  passed  in  the  hos- 
pitable home  from  which  the  two  brothers  have 
gone  forth  forever. 


42 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  IY. 

The  Fuller  House — not  a hotel,  but  the  home 
of  the  Fuller  family — was  about  a hundred  feet 
east  of  the  eastern  line  of  Webb  street,  consid- 
erably nearer  to  California  street  than  Sacra- 
mento street.  The  Fuller  estate  was  the  Kearny 
street  half  of  the  block  bounded  by  Kearny, 
California,  Montgomery  and  Sacramento  streets. 
P.  B.  Hewlett,  a captain  in  Stevenson’ s regiment, 
bought  some  property  in  Webb  street,  west 
side,  and  built  a house  there.  It  was  a kind  of 
semi-hotel  and  semi-boarding-house,  conducted 
by  a very  pretty  widow  lady.  This  house  was 
quiet  and  comfortable;  the  table  and  sleeping 
arrangements  far  in  advance  of  the  average  in 
1850.  Col.  Whiting,  F.  H.  Price,  M.  Jazynsky, 
Barry  & Patten,  and  Col.  Thompson  boarded 
there.  Capt.  Argyras,  the  Greek  gentleman 
who  was  the  owner  of  the  celebrated  yacht 
Northern  Light , also  boarded  there.  This  yacht 
was  in  1847-8-9  the  fancy  boat  of  Boston. 
Argyras  sailed  on  an  expedition,  more  for  pleas- 
ure than  business ; but  his  plans  were  frustrated 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


43 


by  the  loss  of  his  yacht  in  the  Straits  of  Magel- 
lan. Argyras  was  an  educated,  refined  and  hon- 
orable gentleman.  He  died  in  San  Francisco 
about  ten  years  since.  James  Ward  built  a cot- 
tage on  this  block,  nearer  to  Montgomery  street. 
Mrs.  Meacham  afterwards  kept  it  as  a boarding- 
house. We  remember  her  house,  for  the  reason 
that  an  acquaintance  obtained  quarters  there  for 
himself,  wife  and  two  children  for  three  hundred 
dollars  per  week. 

Capt.  Hewlett  lived  on  Montgomery,  beyond 
Broadway,  high  up,  toward  the  telegraph 
station.  He  had  a very  comfortable  little 
snuggery;  two  stories  and  weather  proof,  as  far 
as  rain  was  concerned  ; an  enclosure  for  his 
wood-pile  and  well-house,  and  it  may  here  be 
mentioned  that  a well  of  water  was  a nice  thing 
to  have  in  those  days,  when  water  was  a u bit” 
per  bucket. 

Don  Pedro,  as  we  used  to  call  Capt.  Hewlett, 
although  his  name  was  Palmer  B.  Hewlett,  al- 
ways had  several  friends  living  with  him.  He 
made  a pretense  of  charging  them  for  board, 
but  it  was  only  to  have  the  pleasure  of  their 
company,  and  relieve  them  of  any  sense  of  ob- 
ligation— a very  transparent  sham — not  begin- 
ning to  reimburse  him  for  the  outlay  of  their 
accommodation.  But,  hospitable  Don  Pedro 


44 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


vowed  he  was  a manager,  and  knew  how  to  keep 
house.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of 
June,  1850,  as  the  company  were  lingering  over 
breakfast,  some  one  ran  down  the  steep  hill- 
side past  the  house,  crying  “Fire!  ’ ’ All  sprang 
up  from  the  table,  and  ran  to  the  edge  of  the 
little  ravine  in  which  the  house  stood.  A high 
rising  cloud  of  smoke  and  a little  fire  were  seen 
somewhere  near  Kearny  street,  beyond  the 
Plaza.  Some  new  comers  in  the  party  observed 
the  fire  indifferently,  and  were  turning  back  to 
the  house,  but  Don  Pedro,  who  had  been  here 
at  all  the  conflagrations,  said,  with  a meaning 
smile,  “You’d  better  be  looking  after  your 
baggage,  if  it’ s in  the  city.’  ’ The  person  ad- 
dressed answered,  “Oh,  it  cannot  reach  the 
place  where  our  trunks  are — in  Piddle’ s store 
on  Sacramento  street,  below  Montgomery.”  “If 
you  don’ t hurry,  the  fire  will  be  there  before 
you  are,”  said  Don  Pedro,  with  such  evident 
earnestness  that  his  friend  started.  Two  or 
three  of  the  party  went  with  him.  As  they  de- 
scended the  hill,  they  kept  watch  of  the  fire’ s 
progress,  and,  before  they  had  passed  Pacific 
street,  the  flames  were  rushing  on  like  a train 
of  powder.  The  party  commenced  running, 
nor  abated  their  pace  until  they  reached  the 
store  of  Piddle  & Eaton,  on  Sacramento  street, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


45 


two  doors  west  of  LeidesdorfF.  The  block  was 
on  fire  at  the  corner  of  Montgomery  when  they 
passed  it.  They  rushed  up  stairs  to  secure  their 
trunks,  which  were  in  the  upper  story;  and, 
before  they  descended  to  the  street,  the  roof  of 
the  building  was  in  full  blaze.  They  saved  their 
trunks,  but  they  dared  not  wait  to  collect  some 
other  articles  belonging  to  them.  This  experi- 
ence, however,  was  sufficient  to  convince  them 
of  Don  Pedro’ s wisdom  in  regard  to  San  Fran- 
cisco conflagrations.  The  structures  in  those 
days  were  of  the  slightest  and  most  inflammable 
materials ; the  rooms  lined  with  cloth  and  paper, 
- — buildings  which,  after  standing  a few  weeks  in 
this  atmosphere,  became  tinder — food  for  the 
first  spark.  If  a fire  broke  out,  this  dry  material 
burned  so  suddenly  and  furiously,  that,  though 
the  air  were  dead  calm,  the  wind  soon  rushed 
in,  sweeping  all  in  its  path. 

The  Bella  Union  (temple  of  chance)  was  on 
the  Plaza,  Washington  street  side,  just  above 
Kearny,  and  was,  in  the  days  of  ’49  and  ’50, 
thronged  with  men  playing  against  the  various 
games  from  about  eleven  o’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing until  daylight  the  next  morning.  The  same 
motley  crowd  as  frequented  the  Parker  House, 
Empire,  El  Dorado,  etc.,  were  to  be  seen  here. 
There  used  to  be  a quintette  of  Mexican  mu- 


46 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


sicians,  who  came  here  at  night  to  perform. 
There  were  two  harps,  one  large  and  the  other 
very  small,  two  guitars,  and  one  flute. 

The  musicians  were  dressed  in  the  Mexican 
costume  (which,  however,  was  nothing  very  no- 
ticeable at  that  time,  as  many  of  their  auditors 
were  in  the  same  style  of  dress),  and  were  quiet, 
modest  looking  men,  with  contented,  amiable 
faces.  They  used  to  walk  in  among  the  throng 
of  people,  along  to  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  take 
their  seats,  and  with  scarcely  any  preamble  or 
discussion,  commence  their  instrumentation. 
They  had  played  so  much  together,  and  were 
so  similar,  seemingly,  in  disposition — calm,  con- 
fident and  happy — that  their  ten  hands  moved 
as  if  guided  by  one  mind ; rising  and  falling  in 
perfect  unison — the  harmony  so  sweet,  and  just 
strange  enough  in  its  tones,  from  the  novelty  in 
the  selection  of  instruments,  to  give  it  a peculiar 
fascination  for  ears  always  accustomed  to  the 
orthodox  and  time-honored  vehicles  of  music 
used  in  quintette  instrumentation. 

Their  repertoire  contained  the  popular  waltzes 
and  dances  of  the  time,  and  many  weird,  cu- 
rious airs  of  old  Spain,  sad  refrains  and  amor- 
ous Lieder  ohne  worte ; the  listener  knew,  intui- 
tively, though  he  heard  the  music  without  the 
words,  that  the  same  sounds  had,  with  words, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


47 


centuries  ago,  floated  on  the  moonlit  night  in 
old  Seville,  beneath  the  iron-latticed  balconies 
where  lovely  senoritas  listened  with  bated 
breath,  and  thrilled  with  sympathetic  recogni- 
tion. 

In  the  Bella  Union  at  that  time  might  have 
been  seen  a man  about  fifty  years  of  age,  rather 
above  the  medium  height,  with  a refined,  intel- 
lectual and  rather  sad  face;  forehead,  high, 
broad  and  white ; gray,  neatly  combed  and  ra- 
ther long  hair ; white  cravat  and  black  suit. 
This  individual  presided  with  quiet  and  unruffled 
dignity  at  the  very  interesting  but  baffling  enig- 
ma known  as  “ Faro” — genus  felis  tigris. 

The  courteous  gravity  with  which  he  witnessed 
the  fluctuations  of  the  game  and  the  undisturbed 
serenity  of  his  benign  features,  through  heavy 
loss  or  high  success,  was  always  a study  for  the 
physiognomist  and  observer  of  human  nature. 

One  afternoon,  a grave  looking  man,  and 
clerical  in  appearance,  stopped  in  his  stroll 
through  the  crowded  saloon — all  the  games 
were  very  busy  that  afternoon — in  front  of  the 
closely  surrounded  table,  where  sat,  dealing  the 
cards,  he,  so  long  our  study.  So  much  absorbed 
was  he  in  the  complication  of  the  stakes,  piled 
up  so  heavily,  on,  and  between,  and  at  the  cor- 
ners of  every  card  on  the  green  cloth,  that  he 


48 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


never  once  raised  his  eyes  higher  than  the 
hands  that  placed  the  stacks  of  coin,  or  “chips  ” 
in  their  respective  places. 

Now,  the  deal  being  out,  and  a fresh  shuffle 
and  cut  finished,  and  the  pack  slid  within  the 
little  silver  box,  (bigger  with  fate  than  ever  was 
Pandora’s),  our  urbane  friend  leaned  back  for  a 
moment  in  his  chair,  awaiting  the  movements  of 
the  players. 

Happening  to  raise  his  eyes,  he  looked  upon 
the  clerical-looking  man,  whose  earnest  gaze 
had,  from  the  moment  of  his  halt  at  the  table, 
been  fixed  upon  the  face  of  the  all-unconscious 
dealer.  A keen  observer  might  have  detected 
a slight  start,  and  sudden  but  faint  flush  upon 
the  face  of  the  grave  arbiter  of  chance;  but  it 
was  scarcely  discernable,  and  the  next  moment 
the  face  was  placid  and  self-possessed  as  usual. 
When  the  deal  was  finished,  the  dealer  rang 
a bell  which  stood  always  at  his  hand,  and 
spoke  quietly  to  the  attendant  servant,  who 
quickly  disappeared,  and  soon  returned  with  a 
pale,  impassible-faced  man,  of  slight,  delicate 
figure,  and  hands  thin,  small,  blue-veined  and 
white,  as  those  of  a lady.  Without  any  com- 
munication save  a direct  glance  into  the  eyes 
of  the  retiring  dealer,  he  sat  down,  took  from 
a drawer  in  the  table  a new  pack  of  cards,  di- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


49 


vested  them  of  their  cover,  then  for  a moment 
his  facile  fingers  slid  them  in  and  out,  without 
a single  ruffle  or  catch ; smooth,  sure,  and  with 
regular  exactness,  slapped  the  well-shuffled  pack 
upon  the  table,  in  front  of  his  nearest  right- 
hand  neighbor,  who  cut  them,  and  the  game 
proceeded  as  usual.  Meantime,  he  who  had  left 
the  chair  walked  leisurely  out  of  the  room  to 
the  open  plaza,  first  giving  a glance  to  the  cleri- 
cal-looking man,  and  an  indication  of  the  head 
towards  the  door.  In  a moment  the  two  were 
engaged  in  close  and  earnest  conversation,  which 
lasted  some  considerable  time.  The  purport  of 
that  conference  was  never  known • but  many  of 
the  “Sports”  from  Alabama  and  Mississippi 
surmised  its  nature,  as  they  had  known  both 
gentlemen  as  eloquent  preachers  in  the  Meth- 
odist Church  South. 

4 


50 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  Y. 

Many  of  our  readers  will  remember  H n, 

a member  of  the  Pioneer  Association.  He  was 
an  enigma  to  everybody  during  the  last  years  of 
his  life.  In  the  early  days,  from  ’49  to  ’53, 
he  was,  like  the  majority  of  Californians,  en- 
gaged in  any  kind  of  business  or  speculation 
offering  a profit — whether  real  estate  or  com- 
mission, brokerage  or  what  not.  As  those  days 
for  sudden  and  richly  remunerative  operations 
passed  away,  and  business  settled  itself  into  the 
grooves  and  confines  of  ordinary  times  and 
places,  H — — n also  conformed  to  the  changed 
condition  of  circumstances  in  business,  by  a 
corresponding  formality  in  his  attire.  Always 
scrupulously  neat  in  dress,  and,  even  in  the 
most  careless,  red-shirt,  unkempt  period  of 
pioneer  days,  he  was  never  to  be  seen  without 
a certain  jaunty  style,  becoming  in  its  very  neg- 
ligence. But,  when  the  city  assumed  the  ways 
of  older  cities,  when  it  was  blessed  by  the  com- 
ing of  wives,  mothers,  sisters,  and  little  ones, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


51 


and  social  relations  were  established,  then 

H n donned  the  formal  suit  of  black — the 

black,  high-crowned  hat,  the  dainty  dress-boots, 
and  faultless  gloves  of  mode  color.  His  clothes 
were  always  the  perfection  of  fit  and  style, — 
would  have  passed  at  Poole’s  in  London,  or 
Wyman  & Derby’s  in  New  York;  his  hair  and 
beard  were  ever  trimmed  and  dressed  with  the 
utmost  care ; his  figure  was  tall,  erect  and  ele- 
gant; his  waist  slender,  and  his  shoulders  well 
proportioned.  At  a certain  hour  in  the  after- 
noon he  appeared  on  Montgomery  street,  prom- 
enading its  length  for  an  hour  or  so,  noticeable 
for  his  gait,  dress,  and  old-beau,  courtier  de- 
portment. Those  who  did  not  know  him  sup- 
posed him  to  be  a stranger,  taking  a look  at 
San  Francisco.  Citizens  to  whom  his  form 
was  familiar,  and  who  knew  him  only  by  sight, 
smiled,  perhaps  a little  contemptuously,  as  his 
well-known  figure  passed.  No  one  really  knew 
him  with  sufficient  intimacy  to  tell  of  his  man- 
ner of  life,  his  means  of  subsistence,  his  dwel- 
ling place,  or  where  or  how  he  passed  the  time, 
when  not  seen  taking  his  regular  afternoon 
promenade.  He  never  failed  to  be  present  at 
all  stated  meetings  of  the  Pioneer  Association, 
at  the  parades,  celebrations  and  funerals. 

On  Sunday  morning  he  was  at  some  one  of  the 


52 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


churches,  an  attentive  and  devout  worshiper. 
He  was  a man  considerably  past  middle  age, 
but  remarkably  youthful  in  appearance,  man- 
ners and  movement,  making  all  due  allowance 
for  any  artificial  aid  in  producing  or  maintaining 
this  impression,  to  which  one  might  suspect  he 
resorted.  We  remember  once,  during  a chatty 
conversation  in  the  Pioneer  rooms,  one  of  our 
party  said,  in  reply  to  some  remark,  “ That  is 
the  year  and  month  when  I was  born — thirty- 

seven  years  ago!”  “Ah,  ha!”  said  H n, 

in  his  quiet,  unobtrusive  and  pleasant  way. 
“You  are  a mere  boy;  a mere  boy,  sir!  Why, 
in  that  month,  and  that  year,  I was  at  Niagara 
Falls  on  my  wedding  tour!  Yes  sir!  on  my 
wedding  tour  with  my  beautiful  bride.”  Here 
he  had  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  raised  his  eyes 
to  the  ceiling,  and  brought  the  tips  of  his 
fingers  and  thumbs  together  in  the  most  gentle 
manner,  like  one  forgetful  of  all  around,  musing 
over  the  long,  dim  years  of  the  past.  “Yes  sir! 
yes,  there  are  many  members  here  who  were 
born  after  my  dear  wife  and  children  died ; after 
the  time  when  we  were  all  living  so  happily  to- 
gether, just  as  so  many  are  to-day,  and  as  I 
supposed  we  were  to  live  on  together,  happily 
and  comfortably  to  old  age.  What  a dream  it 
seems — so  long  ago!  Well,  well!  ‘ Life’s  but 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


53 


a dream!’  ” Suddenly  recalled  to  his  surround- 
ings, he  glanced  uneasily  about  for  a moment; 
arose,  rubbed  his  gloved  hands  gently  over  the 
lappels  of  his  neat  coat ; arranged  his  hat  with 
exactness  upon  his  carefully  dressed  hair;  bowed 
with  an  air  worthy  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison, 
and  saying  in  his  soft,  courteous  voice,  “Good 
morning,  gentlemen!”  walked  daintily  away. 

We  believe  H n was  an  Englishman  by 

birth,  and  came  to  the  United  States  in  infancy. 
We  also  believe  that  we  once  heard  him  state 
that  he  graduated  at  West  Point,  but  chose  a 
commercial  life,  in  which  for  many  years  he 
was  very  successful.  Certainly,  his  carriage 
and  address  had  much  in  it  to  justify  the  belief 
that  he  might  have  been  one  of  the  cadets  of 
West  Point;  for,  with  all  due  respect  to  the 
army  officers  of  the  past  ten  years,  there  was 
and  is  to-day,  among  all  the  remaining  officers 
of  the  old  regime , a distinguishing  and  unmis- 
takable ton , a something  which  made  the  “ but- 
ton ” a passport  to  all  good  society,  an  en- 
dorsement with  all  business  men  in  pecuniary 
transactions;  and  we  never  yet  knew  one  of 
them  to  abuse  these  privileges,  or  to  be  guilty 
of  unbecoming  conduct,  in  all  the  many  years 
during  which  we  have  had  constant  and  pecu- 
liar opportunities  to  know  them. 


54 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


To  say  that  the  object  of  our  sketch  had 
much  in  his  deportment  like  an  army  officer  of 
twenty  years  ago,  is  as  high  a compliment  as  we 
need  pay  his  memory. 

The  vigor  and  elasticity  apparent  in  H n’s 

carriage  and  movements  was  not  assumed.  We 
were  one  day  in  Thibault’ s office  on  Montgomery 

street,  near  Clay,  and  H n was  sitting  near 

the  desk,  transacting  some  business.  Wlien  it 
was  concluded,  he  arose  to  go,  and  put  his  hand 
upon  the  hand-rail  which  ran  down  each  side  of 
the  room,  enclosing  the  different  offices  and 
desks.  “ Here’s  the  gate!’7  said  Mr.  Thibault, 
politely  rising  to  open  it.  “Thanks  ! don’t 

trouble  yourself,”  said  H , vaulting  over 

the  rail,  before  Mr.  Thibault  could  carry  out  his 
his  intention.  “Well  done!”  said  the  astonish- 
ed notary.  “School-boy!  eh?”  H n smiled, 

saying,  as  he  walked  away,  “ I don’t  feel  any- 
thing of  old  age  as  yet,  though  ’ tis  many  years 
since  my  school-boy  days.” 

As  the  years  rolled  on,  working  their  visi- 
ble change  in  everybody  and  everything,  they 
seemed  to  have  granted  immunity  to  our  old 
friend.  He  came  and  went  at  the  regular  hour 
for  his  daily  promenade,  dressed  with  the  same 
fastidious  care,  in  clothes  above  reproach — hat, 
gloves  and  boots,  hair  and  beard,  a marvel  of 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


55 


neatness.  One  afternoon,  some  one  said,  “I 

haven’t  seen  EL n to-day, — didn’t  see  him 

yesterday,  either!”  “Well,  I hadn’t  noticed,” 
said  another.  “He’s  always  along  the  street, 
punctual  as  clock-work.  I wonder  where  he  is? 
— sick,  perhaps!  ” and  they  walked  on,  forgetting 
all  about  the  matter.  On  the  third  day  of  his 
absence  from  the  street,  the  morning  papers 

contained  a notice  of  H n’s  death.  He  had 

occupied  a portion  of  the  loft  in  a warehouse 
near  the  junction  of  Davis  and  California  streets, 
where,  known  only  to  the  immediate  neighbors, 
he  had  been  living  and  engaged  in  stuffing  cush- 
ions for  pews,  coaches  and  carriages,  making 
and  renovating  the  coverings  for  hassocks  and 
footstools.  Here  he  had  toiled  and  earned  his 
daily  bread,  gaining  by  honorable  industry  the 
food  and  raiment  for  which  his  self-respect  and 
a just  pride  would  never  let  him  beg,  while  life 
remained.  Here  he  had  lived  alone,  so  many 
dreary  days  and  years — no  relative,  friend,  or 
companion — not  even  the  cheering  hopefulness 
of  youth  to  encourage  him  with  thoughts  of 
brighter  days,  and  the  belief  of  prosperous  times 
to  come.  There  is  something  pathetically  touch- 
ing in  the  thought  of  this  kind,  brave  old  man 
working  on  so  pluckily,  even  unto  death,  in  the 
laudable  struggle  to  be  independent  and  respect- 


56 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


able — to  win  the  pittance  that  should  enable 
him  to  come  among  his  fellow-men  in  gentle- 
men’s attire — equally  presentable  at  any  time, 
with  any  of  them — to  retain  the  position  and 
outward  semblance  which  had  all  through  life 
been  his ; and  with  that  praiseworthy  ambition, 
fighting  poverty  and  growing  infirmity  to  the 
very  last — a truer  picture  of  the  Argonaut  of 
’49  than  has  often  been  presented,  as  the  ex- 
perience of  many  men  can  testify. 

Those  who  were  the  first  to  enter  the  room 

where  lay  the  remains  of  poor  old  H n,  saw 

upon  one  side  of  the  room  that  which  was  so 
like  him,  so  many  years  familiar  to  them — the 
neat  and  shapely  coat,  arranged  upon  some  con- 
trivance to  keep  its  comely  smoothness,  just  as 

if  H n himself,  without  his  head,  were  in  it. 

On  a table,  what  seemed  to  be  his  head, — a wig, 
with  every  lock  and  parting  so  smooth  and  pre- 
cise, so  life-like  and  familiar,  that  it  seemed  as 
though  one,  looking  at  the  front,  must  see  the 

well-remembered  face  of  H n,  instead  of 

the  wooden  block  they  found.  Across  a chair 
his  shirt  was  carefully  laid,  its  neat  bosom  cov- 
ered with  a spread  handkerchief ; his  other 
clothing  carefully  disposed — his  gloves  lying  to- 
gether, his  boots  standing  with  their  heels  in 
soldier  fashion — everything  like  H n ; but 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


57 


when  they  turned  to  the  bed,  their  eyes  looked 
upon  something  they  had  never  seen  or  known, 
— a white  and  hollow  face,  with  sunken  lips; 
the  forehead  high  and  pale,  without  one  vestige 
of  hair  ; but,  strange  incongruity ! against  the 
ghastly  whiteness  of  its  cheeks,  and  covering 
the  fallen  chin,  a coal-black  beard, "precisely  cut 
and  trimmed,  as  if  Death  had,  by  one  icy  touch, 
made  still  more  mysterious  the  man  whose  life 
was  always  an  enigma. 


58 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  YI. 

In  1850,  and  for  some  time  previous,  Liedes- 
dorff  street  was  only  half  a street,  a narrow 
levee,  piled  and  capped,  as  a boundary  for  the 
tide-waters  along  the  beach,  where  now  the 
western  line  of  the  street  runs  from  Clay  to 
Sacramento,  at  which  point  the  beach  took  a 
turn — a little  rincon  down  to  the  corner  of  Cali- 
fornia and  Sansome  streets,  thence  sweeping  to 
the  corner,  diagonally  opposite,  where  stood 
Dewey  & Heiser’s  store,  built  upon  piles.  The 
sidewalk  in  front  of  this  store  was  reached  at 
the  corner,  by  steps,  and  under  the  store  the 
tide  ebbed  and  flowed.  From  the  rear  of  this 
and  all  the  stores  between  California  and  Pine 
streets,  lighters  could  be  loaded  or  discharged 
at  tide-serving. 

In  June,  1850,  we  saw  the  surveyors,  who 
were  defining  the  boundaries  for  the  founda- 
tions of  the  Tehama  House,  compelled  to  move 
tripods,  theodolites  and  chains,  or  get  wet  feet 
in  the  advancing  tide.  Col.  Folsom  built  the 
Tehama,  or  Jones’  Hotel,  the  rendezvous  of  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


59 


army — Gen.  Clark,  Col.  Ben.  Beall,  Lieut.  Derby 
(“John  Phoenix”),  Cols.  Andrews,  Lendrum, 
Jones,  Hamilton,  Underhill,  Capts.  Hunt,  Bon- 
nycastle,  Gibson, Whiting,  Blake,  Chandler,  Ihrie, 
Gen.  Allen,  and  in  short,  all  the  army  officers 
of  that  day.  Native  Californians,  and  old  resi- 
dentes  from  the  interior,  always  “put  up”  at 
the  Tehama,  because  it  was  a wooden  structure, 
spread  out  broad  upon  the  ground,  with  spa- 
cious balconies  on  all  sides,  giving  one  a sense 
of  security  in  case  of  Mother  Earth  being  seized 
with  a shiver.  Apropos  of  earthquakes,  we 
know  people  who  have  lived  in  San  Francisco 
since  1829,  and  never  yet  knew  a shock  of  suffi- 
cient severity  to  damage  any  well  built  house. 
The  stores  and  warehouses  which  have  been  in- 
jured have  either  stood  on  made  land,  or  have 
been  constructed  by  incompetent  builders. 

The  “Tehama”  was  noted  for  the  cleanliness 
of  its  sleeping  rooms  and  bedding.  The  single 
rooms  were  not,  to  be  sure,  large  enough  to 
swing  cats  in;  but,  as  some  wag  said  in  answer 
to  that,  “Who  wants  to  swing  cats  in  his  sleep- 
ing apartment?”  It  opened  with  table  d'hote  in 
good  style ; but  subsequently  that  feature  of  the 
institution  was  changed,  and  Baphael  opened  a 
restaurant  in  the  house,  with  public  tables,  and 
private  rooms  for  families  living  in  the  hotel. 


60 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


This  house  became,  at  last,  one  of  the  familiar 
sights,  even  to  those  who  came  long  after  its 
construction,  standing  as  it  did  from  1850  to 
the  time  of  its  removal  to  make  way  for  the 
Bank  of  California.  The  good-looking  counte- 
nance of  Geo.  Washington  Frink,  the  landlord, 
and  the  figure  of  John  Durkin  at  the  office 
desk,  were  almost  as  firm  fixtures  as  the  house 
itself.  If  you  were  hunting  a visitor  to  the 
city,  or  an  army  or  navy  officer,  you  naturally 
went  to  the  Tehama,  and  if  John  Durkin  told  you 
he  was  out,  you  immediately  turned  your  steps 
to  Barry  & Patten’s,  on  Montgomery  street, 
where,  if  you  did  not  find  him,  you  sat  down 
for  five  minutes,  when  he  was  sure  to  come  in. 

Looking  among  the  old-time  reminiscences 
upon  Barry  & Patten’ s walls,  we  find  a small 
lithograph — a view  of  California  street  from  the 
corner  of  Sansome,  in  1849.  Turning  the  little 
frame,  we  read  upon  its  back,  in  the  Hon.  John 
W.  Dwinelle’s  handwriting,  “Photographed  and 
retouched  by  Nahl,  in  1868,  from  a drawing 
made  in  1849,  by  William  Cogswell,  for  John 
W.  Dwinelle.  Presented  to  Messrs.  Barry  & Pat- 
ten, October,  1868,  by  John  W.  Dwinelle.” 
The  little  sketch  represents  a boatman  hauling 
his  dory  up  the  beach.  Just  above  the  water’s 
edge,  a man  is  sitting  on  some  baggage,  waiting 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


61 


the  boatman’s  operations.  Close  by,  another 
man  is  unloading  a heavily  laden  mule — an 
every-day  group  along  the  beach  in  ’49  and  ’50. 
On  the  right,  in  this  little  sketch,  is  a little 
one-story  wooden  building,  upon  the  roof  of 
which  is  the  sign-board  of  S.  H.  Williams  & 
Co.,  and  over  the  door- way  the  sign  “0.  B. 
Post.” 

A rough  board  fence,  with  gate,  extends 
from  the  outer  end  of  this  structure  down  the 
sloping  beach  into  the  water.  On  the  south- 
west corner  is  a larger  building,  with  the  sign 
“Starkey,  Janoin  & Co.”  The  perspective  of 
the  street  shows  irregular  wooden  buildings 
piles  of  lumber,  and  tents,  which,  above  Mont- 
gomery, are  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  promiscuously,  as  it  rises  the  hill  to 
Kearny  street.  Another  lithograph  upon  the 
wall,  close  by,  represents  the  stores  and  offices 
on  the  east  side  of  Montgomery,  south  of  Jack- 
son;  the  first  occupied  by  S.  P.  Dewey,  real 
estate ; Samuel  Fleischacker,  wholesale  clothing ; 
Pratt  & Cole,  attorneys  and  notaries,  and 
Brooks,  Sheppard  & McCracken,  attorneys;  the 
next  building,  by  H.  Schroeder  & Yan  Der 
Meden  & Co.,  merchants;  the  next  by  J.  B. 
Bidleman,  shipping  and  commission  merchant; 
the  fourth  by  Theodore  Payne  & Co.,  auction 


62 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


and  commission  merchants.  It  was  on  the 
Jackson  street  corner  of  this  block  that  pack- 
ages of  tobacco  were  used  to  make  a sidewalk, 
it  having  been  discovered  one  morning,  that,  in 
the  mutability  of  California  affairs,  whole  boxes 
of  fine  Yirginia  tobacco  were  cheaper  than  State 
of  Maine  pine  boards.  Theodore  Payne  was  a 
warm-hearted,  generous  man,  ever  ready  to  aid 
the  needy,  a true  friend  and  worthy  citizen; 
and  it  pleases  us  here  to  say  that  his  sons  in- 
herit the  virtues  of  their  father. 

C.  C.  Richmond  had  his  wholesale  drug  store 
just  around  the  corner  on  Jackson,  south  side, 
below  Montgomery.  This  store  was  on  piles, 
and  the  sidewalk  was  raised  several  feet  above 
the  middle  of  the  street,  which  was  a shelving 
beach,  covered  with  the  tide  u twice  in  twenty- 
four  hours,”  if  we  may  be  allowed  a u square” 
quotation.  Sansome  street  was  occupied  with 
stores  from  the  cliff  at  Broadway  to  the  corner 
of  Jackson,  where  it  ended  in  the  curve  of  the 
water  line  which  swept  up  towards  Washing- 
ton, a little  below  Montgomery  street,  and 
approaching  still  nearer  to  Montgomery  as  it 
came  to  Clay  street. 

Beck  & Elam  were  on  Jackson  street^  south 
side,  below  Montgomery.  Mr.  Beck  came  to  San 
Francisco  as  purser  of  the  propeller  Columbus. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


63 


He  did  not  leave  Panama  as  purser,  but  was 
elected  to  the  office  by  the  passengers,  who 
found  themselves — five  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  in  number — at  sea,  aboard  of  a six  hun- 
dred ton  steamship,  with  no  particular  stem  or 
stern  to  the  discipline,  whatever  might  be  said 
of  those  portions  of  the  ship’s  hull.  Captain 
Peck  was  the  ostensible  commander — a very 
amiable  man,  who  passed  much  of  his  time 
playing  checkers,  or  draughts,  with  unconven- 
tional steerage  passengers.  Captain  Peck  was 
“as  mild  a mannered  man”  as  you  would  wish 
to  meet,  but  not  one  to  be  compared  with  Cap- 
tain Bob  Waterman,  for  having  things  in  “ship- 
shape and  Bristol  fashion.”  Mr.  Beck  was 
made  to  accept  the  office  nolens  volens,  and  he 
managed  things  very  well.  The  five  hundred 
and  twenty-four  passengers  were  five  hundred 
and  twenty-five  when  the  steamer  arrived  in  San 
Francisco,  owing  to  an  arrival  among  the  lady 
passengers  while  at  sea. 

The  clipper  ship  Eclipse,  Captain  Hamilton, 
came  consigned  to  Beck  k Elam;  and  we  re- 
member a gentleman,  at  a convivial  entertain- 
ment, given  in  honor  of  her  arrival,  attempting 
to  offer  a sentiment,  rather  late  in  the  dessert. 
“Gentlemen  ! I give  you  the  shipper-clips — the 
clippy-sh — the — Gentlemen!!  I give  you  the — 


64 


MEN  AND  MEMOEIES 


the  slipper” — here  he  paused,  steadied  himself 
by  the  table- edge,  bowed  with  great  gravity, 
and  said  very  slowly:  “ Gentlemen — I — give — 
you — the — ship — E — clipse,  and  her  gallant 
cap’nhamilton.”  The  last  three  words,  “gal- 
lantcap7  nhamilton,”  were  too  much  for  him, 
and  he  subsided. 

Bullit  & Patrick  were  on  the  corner  of  Jack- 
son  and  Sansome  streets;  Coghill  & Arrington 
were  on  the  opposite  corner;  Christal,  Cornan 
& Co.  were  on  Jackson,  between  Sansome  and 
Montgomery.  John  Cowell  was  merchandising 
on  the  corner  of  Sansome  and  Jackson;  and  the 
Commercial  Hotel  was  kept  by  J.  Ford  & Co., 
on  Jackson,  between  Montgomery  and  Sansome. 
Louis  Cohn’s  store  was  in  the  same  block.  My- 
rie,  Crosett  & Co.  were  on  Jackson,  below  San- 
some. W.  H.  Y.  Cronise  and  Titus  Cronise 
were  auctioneers  on  the  corner  of  Jackson  and 
Montgomery.  We  would  like  one  per  cent,  on 
all  the  money  made  by  W.  H.  Y.  Cronise  in  San 
Francisco,  or  upon  the  amount  he  has  given 
away  in  charity  during  the  past  twenty-four 
years.  The  Dalton  House  was  on  Jackson 
street,  below  Montgomery,  and  conducted  by 
C.  A.  Smith.  Dupuy,  Foulkes  & Co.  were  on 
the  corner  of  Jackson  and  Battery;  their  store 
standing  on  piles,  and  accessible  by  a narrow 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


65 


sidewalk  over  the  water  of  the  bay.  There 
were  others  on  Jackson  street  whom  we  cannot 
recall,  nor  do  we  wish  to  compete  with  Kim- 
ball’s Directory  for  1850. 

Until  along  into  the  summer  of  1850,.  the 
sidewalks  on  Montgomery  street  ended  a few 
steps  south  of  California  street,  and  the  deep, 
slippery,  shifting  sand,  checked  the  pedestrian’s 
ardor  very  quickly  after  walking  a block,  more 
or  less — generally  less.  When  one  had  walked 
to  Liitgen’ s Hotel,  about  half  way  between  Pine 
and  Bush  streets,  on  the  east  side  of  Mont- 
gomery, he  began  to  think  that  he  would  post- 
pone his  exercise  for  that  day.  Dr.  Enscoe’s 
house  stood  on  the  corner  of  Bush  and  Mont- 
gomery — southeast  corner.  Opposite  was  a 
long,  rambling,  three-story,  pitched-roof  wooden 
building,  called  the  American  Hotel,  kept  by  a 
German.  On  the  northwest  corner  of  Bush 
and  Montgomery  was  a grocery  kept  by  a Ger- 
man. Our  German  citizens  have,  from  the  ear- 
liest of  San  Francisco’ s days,  noted  the  import- 
ance of  corners — the  chances  of  a man  halting 
at  the  corner;  the  probabilities  of  a man  meet- 
ing some  friend  just  turning  the  corner,  and  the 
great  odds  that  they  will  halt  and  chat  on  the 
corner;  the  great  likelihood  of  strangers  stop- 
ping in  to  inquire  for  some  one  living  in  the 
5 


66 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


vicinity.  Corner  property,  of  course,  is  a kind 
of  “corner”  on  pedestrians. 

On  the  southeast  corner  of  Montgomery  and 
Pine  streets  there  used  to  stand  one  of  those 
corrugated-iron  buildings,  many  of  which  were 
imported  from  Europe,  in  pieces  all  numbered, 
and  ready  for  erection.  Berenhart,  Jacoby  & 
Co.  were  its  occupants.  On  the  southwest  cor- 
ner of  the  same  streets  was  a little,  unpainted 
wooden  building,  one  and  a half  stories ; a gro- 
cery, kept  by  a German,  of  course.  This  little 
store  stood  on  the  same  corner  until  it  was  de- 
molished to  make  way  for  the  Buss  House. 

Small,  dilapidated  and  insignificant  as  it  was, 
we  felt  a little  pang  of  regret  when  witnessing 
its  demolition.  The  long,  dry  seasons  of  many 
summers  had  given  it  the  look  of  half  a cen- 
tury. The  boisterous,  tossing  winds  had  thrown 
upon  its  little  roof  the  dried  seeds  of  vegetation, 
which  the  alternating  rains  woke  into  green 
life ; and  on  shelves  across  the  sills  of  the  little 
windows,  just  beneath  the  venerable-looking 
eaves,  were  humble  little  flowers  in  improvised 
pots,  once  containing  McMurray’s  oysters  and 
Kensett’ s green  corn. 

The  present  site  of  the  Lick  House  was  in  those 
days,  and  in  fact,  up  to  ’58  or  ’59,  a sand  waste, 
unoccupied,  save  by  the  tents  of  some  parties 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


67 


camping  there,  preparatory  to  going  up-river  to 
the  mines ; or,  in  later  years,  when  it  boasted  the 
dignity  of  an  enclosure  for  cattle  on  sale,  a cir- 
cus troupe,  or  industrial  exhibition.  The  oppo- 
site side  of  the  street  was  mostly  a sand  waste ; 
the  line  of  the  street  only  marked  by  fragile 
structures,  few  and  far  between. 

Kearny  street  was  more  populous  and  fre- 
quented, though  its  narrow  sidewalks  were  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  made, — the  work  of  many 
hands,  and  composed  of  a great  variety  of  queer 
materials.  In  front  of  one  man’s  property,  the 
walk  was  made  of  barrel-staves,  nailed  upon 
stretchers;  the  next  one  adjoining  had  thin, 
springing  boards,  threatening  at  every  step  to 
let  you  through;  then  a mosaic,  made  of  sides 
and  ends  of  packing-cases,  some  portions  cov- 
ered with  tin  or  zinc — the  jagged,  saw-like 
edges  making  business  for  the  dealers  in  boots 
and  shoes ; now  you  trod  upon  the  rusty  tops 
of  some  old  stoves,  or  heavy  iron  window-shut- 
ters, or  an  old  ship’s  hatchway  covering;  then  a 
dozen  or  two  heads  of  kegs,  set  close  together, 
imbedded  in  the  mud  of  last  year’s  rainy  season ; 
and  so  on,  in  great  and  curious  variety. 

In  many  places  these  odd  patches  of  sidewalk 
ended  with  astonishing  abruptness,  as  the  un- 
wary stranger,  walking  that  way  after  dark,  very 


68 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


suddenly  discovered,  as  he  plunged  forward, 
jarring  his  entire  frame,  jerking  off  his  hat  into 
the  mud  or  dust  (as  the  season  rendered  propi- 
tious), biting  his  tongue,  and  altogether  anger- 
ing and  discomposing  himself,  if  he  were  not  so 
unfortunate  as  to  fall  at  full  length,  soiling  and 
tearing  his  clothing  or  dislocating  his  limbs. 
The  northern  end  of  Kearny  street,  between 
Washington  street  and  the  Graham  House  (af- 
terwards used  as  the  City  Hall),  was  the  abode 
and  resort  of  Mexicans,  Peruvians,  and  Chile- 
nos;  while  the  southern  part  of  the  street  was 
occupied  by  Germans  and  French,  displaying 
Gast-haus  and  Cafe  sign-boards,  wine-mer- 
chants and  bier-halles,  Pharmacie  - Francaise 
and  Deutsche-Apotheke.  The  old  Kearny  street, 
with  its  narrow  way;  its  slopy,  uneven,  rick- 
etty,  pitfall-sidewalks;  its  toppling,  unsightly 
buildings  and  aggravating  doorsteps,  viciously 
projecting  half  way  across  the  footpath;  its 
ankle-deep  sand  of  summer  and  knee-deep  mud 
of  winter,  at  the  crossings;- — that  old  Kearny 
street  has  passed  away — thank  Heaven,  for- 
ever! What  a contrast  the  corner  of  Post  and 
Kearny  presents.  Where  the  dingy,  old  gro- 
cery once  stood,  with  its  stolid,  phlegmatic 
proprietor,  in  soiled  shirt-sleeves  and  unkempt 
locks,  pipe  in  mouth,  and  hands  in  his  pockets, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


69 


obstructing  bis  own  doorway, — we  now  look 
upon  the  spacious  and  elegant  White  House — 
its  grand  show  windows  of  clear  plate-glass, 
displaying  with  artistic  arrangement  the  cost- 
liest fabrics  from  the  looms  of  India  and  Eu- 
rope. Laces,  too  exquisite  for  man  to  describe 
or  appreciate,  but  gazed  upon  by  the  gentler 
sex  with  the  heightened  color,  parted  lips,  and 
sparkling  eyes,  betokening  full  recognition  of 
their  value.  Everything  in  dry  goods,  from  the 
soft,  thick,  warm,  downy  blanket,  delighting  the 
eye  of  poor,  old,  rheumatic  women,  to  the  float- 
ing folds  of  vaporous  fabric,  wonderfully  orna- 
mented for  a bridal  veil;  and  story  upon  story, 
piled  with  linens,  silks  and  velvets,  and  shawls 
of  every  value.  We  are  lifted,  noiselessly,  in  a 
luxurious  car,  from  floor  to  floor,  where  well- 
dressed,  courteous,  gentlemanly  clerks,  and  our 
u old  time”  friends,  George  Huntsman  and 
Raphael  Weill,  anticipate  our  slightest  wish. 
And  was  it  here  that  the  old,  dingy  grocery  and 
Assembly  Hall  stood?  Surely,  the  late  Horace 
M.  Whitmore,  who  first  projected  this  improve- 
ment, was  no  false  prophet,  when  he  said,  “I’ll 
alter  Kearny  street  so  that  its  oldest  inhabitant 
will  fail  to  recognize  it!” 

Lutgen’s  Hotel  stands  to-day  in  the  same 
spot  on  Montgomery  street,  where  it  was  origi- 


70 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


nally  built  in  1849 — -just  opposite  where  the 
Russ  House  now  stands.  It  is  a strong  wooden 
building,  of  two  stories,  and  a high,  sloping  roof. 
The  second  story  originally  projected  in  a kind  of 
balcony  over  the  sidewalk,  its  stout  timbers  hav- 
ing some  little  pretensions  to  carving;  remind- 
ing one  of  quaint,  old  buildings  in  the  cities 
and  provincial  towns  of  Europe.  This  building 
had  a substantial,  old-fashion  appearance,  greatly 
at  variance  with  the  pine-board  shanties  and 
wide-crannied  structures  usual  at  that  time. 
Until  quite  recently  this  building  presented  its 
original  front  to  the  street.  We  miss  the  old, 
familiar  object — its  sturdy,  honest  timbers  had 
stood  so  long,  firm  and  unscathed  by  time,  or 
change,  or  oft-repeated  conflagration, — doing 
good  service  in  these  later  years  to  set  aright 
the  puzzled  visitor  from  the  interior,  who,  once 
so  familiar  with  the  street,  now  seemed  a 
stranger  in  a strange  land,  until  the  old  land- 
mark gave  him  his  bearings,  and  sent  him  on 
his  way,  musing  on  reminiscences  tiempo  pasado. 

Many  of  our  well  known  German  citizens 
boarded  at  Lutgen’s  in  ’49  and  ’50,  and  later 
still.  Nicolas  Luning  and  A.  Yon  der  Meden 
were  there  when  we  first  knew  them.  It  was 
quite  remote  from  the  city’s  bustle  then.  Es- 
pecially did  it  seem  so  at  night,  so  dark  and 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


71 


still — no  street  lamps;  no  illuminated  shop- 
windows — the  deep  sand  muffling  every  footfall ; 
a long,  lonesome  way  to  California  street — 
plodding  on  in  the  soft,  unstable  sand — longer 
and  more  dreary  than  can  be  realized  to-day  by 
him  who  walks  from  Meyer’ s ivory-turning 
shop — that’s  where  Liitgen’s  stood — to  Wells, 
Fargo  & Co’s  corner.  Yet,  the  old  citizen  can 
remember  the  sigh  of  satisfaction  with  which 
he  stepped  upon  the  narrow  strip  of  sidewalk 
in  front  of  Howard  & Green’s  iron  store,  south 
of  California  street,  even  if  that  sidewalk  were 
but  a narrow  plank,  laid  for  single  file  prome- 
nading. 


72 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  YII. 

The  fire  of  May  4th,  1851,  originated  in  the 
paint  store  of  Mr.  Oliver,  on  Clay  street,  Plaza, 
above  Kearny,  about  eight  o’clock  on  a Satur- 
day evening,  and  its  progress  was  so  rapid,  that 
people  occupying  houses  a block  away  were 
unable  to  remove  their  goods.  The  roofs  of 
buildings,  seemingly  too  remote  for  danger, 
caught  fire  like  powder,  the  flames  creeping  from 
street  to  street  like  a laid  train,  finding  fresh 
combustible  in  the  dry  board  walls,  paper  and 
cloth  interiors;  and  the  wind — sleeping  at  the 
fire’ s commencement — now  roaring  like  a pyro- 
maniac,  tossed  the  blazing  brands  and  glowing 
embers  far  away,  igniting  new  fires  upon  distant 
roofs,  till  people  thought  incendiaries  were  con- 
summating preconcerted  deviltry,  adding  new 
horror  to  the  dire  confusion.  The  streets  were 
crowded  with  loaded  drays ; the  snorting  teams, 
hurried  by  greedy  drivers  to  some  place  of  safety 
to  unload,  rush  back  and  close  with  the  highest 
bidder  for  another  freight.  Frantic  men  stood  at 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


73 


their  store  doors,  tossing  their  hands  in  the  air, 
offering  twenty ! forty ! fifty  dollars  a load,  for  the 
removal  of  valuable  goods ; but  soon  the  streets 
became  so  blocked  with  teams  and  furniture 
and  bales  of  goods,  and  hurrying,  crowding  men 
and  mules,  that  the  excited  drivers,  hoarse  with 
shouting,  in  the  vain  effort  to  haul  their  goods, 
and  win  the  rich  harvest  of  fire-tariffs,  were 
glad  to  unload  and  escape  with  teams  and 
vehicles,  some  of  them  having  only  time  to  un- 
hifch  their  animals,  leaving  their  loaded  drays 
to  burn — losers  in  the  battle,  despite  two  or 
three  loads  at  fire  prices.  Men  stayed  by  their 
stores,  hoping  against  hope,  until  the  heat  was 
unendurable,  then  ran  for  their  lives,  and  many 
there  were  who  lost  the  dreadful  race.  Ten  or 
twelve  bodies,  charred  beyond  all  recognition, 
were  found  in  the  streets  after  the  fire  subsided. 
Several  men  remained  in  the  store  of  Taaffe  & 
McCahill,  corner  of  Sacramento  and  Mont- 
gomery, believing  it  to  be  fire-proof.  When 
the  heat  became  too  intense,  they  tried  to  es- 
cape, but  the  swollen  iron  doors  prevented. 
They  fled  to  the  cellar,  seeking  safety  in  a mas- 
sive vault,  where  their  remains  were  found. 
One  of  these  unfortunate  victims  was  Captain 
Yincent,  the  father  of  Mr.  Vincent,  of  Vincent 
& Lewis,  now  of  this  city. 


74 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Mygatt  & Bryant  were  the  proprietors  of  the 
Washington  Baths,  corner  of  Washington  street 
and  Maiden  Lane.  The  fire  of  May,  ’50,  wiped 
out  their  establishment.  They  built  it  up  again, 
painted  and  decorated  it  in  good  style,  and  were 
to  open  on  the  fourteenth  of  June;  but,  on  that 
day,  another  fire  came,  saving  them  the  trouble. 
Calvin  Nutting  had  his  iron  works  on  Maiden 
Lane,  between  the  bath  rooms  of  Mygatt  & 
Bryant  and  Jackson  street.  Mr.  Nutting  met 
the  bath-house  proprietors  in  the  lane — or  #on 
the  ground  where  the  lane  used  to  be — the  day 
of  the  fire,  and  asked  them  if  they  were  going 
to  build  again.  They  said,  not  unless  they 
could  build  fire-proof,  which,  they  supposed, 
was  impossible.  Mr.  Nutting  assured  them  that 
he  could  build  them  a fire-proof  house;  and 
before  they  parted  a verbal  contract  was  made. 

The  work  was  commenced  in  a few  days, 
and  satisfactorily  finished;  Mr.  Nutting  receiv- 
ing his  money  in  weekly  or  semi-monthly  pay- 
ments, as  suited  the  convenience  of  Messrs.  M. 
& B„,  until  the  contract  was  fully  and  faithfully 
complied  with.  We  do  not  remember  the  cost 
of  iron  shutters  and  iron  work  for  the  fire-proof 
buildings  in  those  times;  but  we  know  that  it 
was  very  steep,  and,  when  the  fiery  ordeal  came, 
very  few  of  the  so-called  fire-proof  buildings 
stood  the  test. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


75 


We  remember,  as  well  as  if  it  were  but  yester- 
day, being  in  front  of  Jo.  Bidleman’s  fine, 
three-story  brick,  fire-proof  store,  on  the  east 
side  of  Montgomery  street,  between  Washing- 
ton and  Jackson,  when  the  fire  of  May  4th, 
1851,  reached  it.  Every  one  said,  “Oh,  the  fire 
will  stop  there ! It  can’t  get  through  those  walls 
and  shutters!”  But  when  the  dreadful  heat  had 
turned  its  all-devouring  breath  upon  the  firm, 
thick  walls,  and  bolted,  massive  shutters,  the 
moments  of  suspense  for  the  spectator  were 
but  few.  He  saw,  along  the  iron  window-shut- 
ter’ s edge,  a line  of  thin,  smoky  fringe,  like  an 
angola  edging  for  a lady’s  robe.  For  a moment 
it  slowly  curled  about  the  window-casing;  then, 
with  a sudden  puff,  the  delicately  waving  bor- 
der quickly  changed  to  a thick  frame  of  wool- 
like smoke.  The  doubled  sheets  of  bolted  iron 
trembled  and  filled  out  like  window-curtains 
shaking  in  a breeze,  then  burst  their  fastenings, 
belching  long-tongued  flames,  that  soon  con- 
sumed the  costly  structure.  We  ran  away  from 
the  fearful  heat  to  the  corner  of  Jackson  street, 
and  stopped  to  look  upon  the  walls,  melting 
like  snow  drifts,  piled  upon  the  edge  of  a long 
sleeping  crater,  suddenly  aroused  to  angry  vio- 
lence. Our  faith  in  “ fire-proof  ’ was  shaken. 
Turning  away,  we  saw  the  deep  hollow  on  the 


76 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


northwest  corner  of  Jackson  and  Montgomery 
— a weedy  basin  in  dry  weather,  a murky  pool 
in  winter — filled  with  goods  of  all  descriptions, 
rescued  from  the  flames.  We  looked  around, 
thinking  how  strange  that  all  those  goods  should 
have  been  hurried  there  to  save  them  from  fire, 
and  left  wholly  unprotected,  no  one  watching 
them ; the  owners  returned  for  more ; gone  for 
some  refreshment,  wearied  to  sleep,  or  what 
not?  No  one  was  there;  all  seemed  deserted; 
and  yet,  half  a block  away,  the  shouts  of 
frenzied  men  and  bellowing  roar  of  flames  were 
unabated.  Lying  upon  some  boxes  in  the  pro- 
miscuous pile,  we  saw  the  silver-plated  frame 
and  plate-glass  of  a jeweler’ s show  case,  with  its 
velvet  lining,  and  diamonds  in  their  various 
styles  of  setting, — rings,  brooches,  pins,  ear 
drops  and  bracelets,  displayed  in  their  caskets, 
as  when  spread  for  sale. 

We  thought  the  people  mad — leaving  those 
jewels  there — and  proposed  taking  them  from 
their  caskets,  wrapping  them  in  our  handker- 
chiefs, and  advertising  them,  after  the  fire.  One 
thought  we’d  better  leave  them  alone;  another 
said:  u Don’t  open  the  case!  some  one  might  be 
concealed  among  these  piles  of  goods,  watching 
them ; and,  taking  us  for  thieves,  shoot  us ! ” 
We  fell  back  at  this,  arguing  the  question. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


77 


One  said  that  he  was  sure  he  knew  the  goods ; 
they  were  Hayes  & Lyndall’  s,  in  Clay  street ; 
and,  knowing  them  to  be  good  fellows,  it  was 
wrong  in  us  to  leave  their  goods  to  be  stolen ; 
to  which  another  answered:  “It  isn’t  reason- 
able to  suppose  they  are  left  unguarded.” 
While  thus  conversing,  we  had  slowly  moved 
from  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
treasure,  half-turned  towards,  and  looking  at  it, 
when  a gang  of  drunken,  shouting  vagabonds — 
just  such  as  hung  about  the  dens  on  the  hill- 
side at  the  heads  of  Montgomery  and  Kearny 
streets — came  along  Montgomery,  from  the 
burning  buildings,  and,  sauntering  into  the 
hollow,  saw  the  show-case  and  sprang  upon  it, 
tearing  it  open,  snatching  the  contents,  pushing 
and  fighting  for  their  booty,  and  yelling  in 
drunken,  thieving  triumph. 

The  day  after  the  fire  of  May  4th,  1851,  two 
young  men  who  had  roomed  together,  and  had 
lost  by  the  conflagration  all,  save  the  clothes  in 
which  they  stood,  and  a few  dollars  in  their 
pockets,  were  hunting  for  a place  in  which  to 
sleep.  It  was  about  noon,  and  they  were  very 
much  fatigued  and  weary  of  going  from  one 
public  house  to  another,  finding  them  all  full, 
crowded  with  men  who  had  been  sleeping  in 
their  stores  and  offices,  as  was  customary  in 


78 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


those  days.  Wandering  on,  they  came  to  the 
St.  Francis  Hotel,  on  the  corner  of  Dupont 
and  Clay,  and  ascending  the  outside  stair, 
walked  along  the  balconies  that  reached  around 
each  story  of  the  building.  Finding  one  door 
ajar,  they  pushed  it  open  carefully  and  looked 
in.  The  room  seemed  deserted  and  unfurnish- 
ed, save  a small  stretcher  for  a single  cot — 
just  the  wooden  frame  and  canvas  stretcher — 
no  bedding.  Stepping  into  the  room,  supposing 
it  to  be  unoccupied,  they  were  surprised  to 
see  a man  standing  just  behind  the  door.  He 
was  a tall,  powerfully  built  man,  and  stood  with 
his  head  drooping  upon  his  chest;  his  hands, 
or  rather  his  wrists,  crossed,  as  if  he  wished 
to  keep  his  hands  from  touching  anything. 
As  the  two  intruders  began  to  apologise  for 
their  unceremonious  entrance,  the  man  raised 
his  head  and  waved  his  hands,  with  a gesture 
deprecating  any  apology,  saying,  in  strangely 
muffled,  indistinct  speech,  u Excuse  me,  but  I 
do  not  know  where  I am,  or  how  I came 
here.”  Just  then — becoming  accustomed  to 
the  dim  light  of  the  room,  which  so  obscured 
everything  on  their  entrance  out  of  the  bright 
sunlight — the  friends  saw  that  the  man  was 
dreadfully  burned,  his  lips  so  swollen  and  dis- 
torted as  almost  to  preclude  intelligible  utter- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


79 


ance ; his  eyes  closed,  and  the  lids  entirely 
indistinguishable  ; his  quivering  hands,  which 
he  held  away  from  himself  lest  contact  should 
increase  their  torture,  so  shockingly  burned 
that  the  spectators  sickened  at  sight  of  them. 
The  beard  was  gone,  and  all  the  hair  below 
the  line  of  his  hat-brim  was  completely  gone. 
His  head  was  uncovered ; his  scorched  and  bat- 
tered hat  lying  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and 
all  around  and  on  the  crown  of  his  head  were 
thick,  light-red  curls.  There  was  something  in 
the  figure  and  action  of  the  man — something 
even  in  his  voice,  muffled  and  disguised  as  it 
was,  through  his  burned,  shapeless  lips — which 
seemed  strangely  familiar  to  the  two  men,  as 
they  listened  intently,  with  great  difficulty 
comprehending  the  statement  of  the  sufferer. 
As  he  was  telling  them  how  he  remained  too 
long  in  his  office,  getting  valuable  papers  to- 
gether, in  case  the  fire  should  reach  the  build- 
ing and  compel  him  to  remove  them  to  a place 
of  safety ; how  he  was  unable  to  get  out  when 
the  building  took  fire ; and  the  iron  doors,  closed 
for  safety,  were  so  swollen  by  heat,  that  he  could 
not  effect  his  escape  until  aided  by  some  people 
outside,  attracted  by  his  cries — he  suddenly 
paused,  and  asked,  “Don’t  you  know  me?  I 
am  Austin,  your  counselor!  ’ ’ It  was  Elbridge 


80 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Gerry  Austin,  the  friend  and  legal  adviser  of 
the  two  men  whom  accident  had  led  to  the  res- 
cue. With  increased  interest  and  sympathy 
they  hurried  out,  obtained  a vehicle,  tenderly 
placing  him  therein,  and  conveyed  him  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  C.  W.  Jones  (of  George  N.  Shaw 
& Co.),  just  south  of  Pine  street,  near  Battery, 
where  he  was  kindly  nursed  to  recovery  by  the 
wife  of  his  old  friend  and  hospitable  host.  Min- 
istering to  the  needs  of  one  so  much  more  un- 
fortunate than  themselves,  quite  banished  all 
thoughts  of  their  own  troubles — newly  impress- 
ing the  dos  amigos  with  a just  appreciation  of  the 
value  of  health  and  unimpaired  faculties;  and 
walking  back  across  the  smoking  ruins  to  that 
portion  of  the  city  undevastated,  they  found 
quarters  with  Bowman  & Thacher,  who,  just 
burned  out  at  the  corner  of  Clay  and  Mont- 
gomery, had  leased  storeroom  on  board  the 
storeship  Arkansas , lying  on  the  north  side  of 
Pacific  wharf,  between  Sansome  and  Battery. 
Satisfied  with  the  good  work  chance  had  placed 
in  their  hands,  and  weary  with  forty-eight  hours 
of  action,  the  two  friends  fully  enjoyed  their 
sleep  in  the  comfortable  old  state-room  pro- 
vided for  them. 

Another  incident  of  the  same  conflagration 
we  recall.  Two  young  fellows  who  came  to- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


81 


gether  to  San  Francisco,  and  were  room-mates, 
losing  all,  save  one  little  trunk-full  of  toilet 
indispensables,  retreated  before  the  devastating 
flames  until  they  found  themselves  on  the  hill- 
side, where  Montgomery  street  led  to  Telegraph 
Hill,  and  here  they  sat  down  to  watch  the  flames. 
Jaded  out,  and  perfectly  aware  of  the  useless- 
ness of  fighting  the  devouring  element,  they 
concluded  to  climb  the  hill  and  seek  some  nook 
where  they  might  sleep  undisturbed.  They  soon 
reached  a little  valley  or  level  spot,  just  beyond 
the  first  hill,  about  half-way  to  the  summit,  and 
saw  a little  cottage  with  sheltering  veranda — 
extremely  inviting  to  houseless  vagrants.  There 
was  no  light  or  evidence  of  life  within.  All 
seemed  super  naturally  quiet ; the  first  faint  gray 
of  dawn  was  in  the  eastern  sky;  the  elevation 
of  the  land  toward  the  city  hid  the  dense  clouds 
of  smoke,  and  the*  low,  lurid  flames,  well  nigh 
exhausted  by  their  carnival.  So  strange  seemed 
the  stillness  after  the  nerve-straining  babel  of  ex- 
citement during  the  past  seven  or  eight  hours, 
that,  actuated  by  a simultaneous  impulse,  they 
hurried  to  the  little  eminence  and  looked  down 
upon  the  smoking  ruins.  The  fire  was  low  and 
darkly  red,  like  a great  bed  of  lava,  and  the 
black  smoke  rolled  over  the  bay,  as  silent  as  a 
picture.  Hot  an  audible  sound  came  to  their 
6 


82 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


ears;  the  shouting  of  men  had  ceased;  the  fire’s 
exulting  roar  was  hushed;  both  man  and  the 
scourging  element  seemed  exhausted.  Turning 
back,  thoughtful  and  silent  from  the  strange 
sight,  they  placed  their  trunk  upon  the  veranda 
and  laid  down  to  rest.  Just  as  they  were  sink- 
ing into  unconsciousness,  a woman’ s voice 
aroused  them,  inquiring  why  they  were  there. 
Hastily  rising,  they  explained.  The  woman 
was  much  surprised,  saying  that  just  after  her- 
self and  husband  had  retired,  there  came  a mes- 
senger from  Hewitt  & Harrison’ s store,  on  San- 
some,  near  Broadway,  where  her  husband  was 
the  porter,  requesting  him  to  come  down,  as 
there  was  a big  fire  under  way  which  might 
reach  their  building.  The  high  wind,  awakened 
by  the  fire,  had  blown  the  noise  away  from  the 
remote  and  quiet  locality,  and  she  had  gone  to 
sleep  all  unconscious  of  the  great  calamity. 
With  genuine  hospitality  and  womanly  sym- 
pathy, she  invited  them  in,  apologising  for  their 
scanty  accommodations,  and  regretting  that  she 
had  no  bed  to  offer  them,  but  refusing,  despite 
all  their  entreaties,  to  allow  them  to  sleep  in 
the  cold  morning  air,  until  she  had  prepared 
them  some  breakfast.  By  the  time  that  day- 
light came,  a hot  breakfast  with  delicious  coffee 
was  set  before  them,  filling  them  with  refresh- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


83 


ing  comfort,  and  banishing  all  thoughts  of  sleep 
or  weariness.  With  grateful  hearts  they  ex- 
pressed their  many  thanks,  and  departed. 
Often  since  has  their  gratitude  been  expressed, 
and  the  incident  never  will  be  forgotten.  - 


84 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  Till. 

The  Baltimore  Boys  always  took  a prominent 
part  in  the  affairs  of  San  Francisco,  and  on  the 
right  side  of  all  momentous  local  issues. 

Peter  Stroebell  was  one  of  the  good  men.  of 
our  early  days — a man  with  a woman’ s heart 
and  lion’ s frame,  noble  in  stature  and  in  nature, 
full  of  generous  impulses  and  great  integrity — 
as  incapable  of  a mean  action  as  of  wearing  the 
garments  of  a little  man. 

Mr.  Stroebell  went  from  San  Francisco  to 
Melbourne,  Australia,  on  board  the  steamer 
Monumental  City , of  which  he  was  agent  and  a 
large  owner.  The  steamer  was  lost  there,  and 
Mr.  Stroebell  perished  with  her.  The  news  of 
his  death  made  sad  the  heart  of  every  one  who 
had  known  him. 

George  Hossefross  was  another  Baltimorean; 
as  true  as  steel,  as  open  and  honest  as  the  sun, 
seeking  with  full  hands  the  needy,  and  happiest 
when  making  others  happy.  He  was  one  of  the 
founders  of  the  Monumental  Engine  Company, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


85 


and  was  chief  engineer  of  the  San  Francisco 
Fire  Department. 

James  Hassan  was  a Baltimorean  and  a wor- 
thy confrere  of  his  fellow  citizens  in  California. 

Hillard  k Rider  were  Baltimoreans.  * John 
Rider  died  (we  believe)  in  Nicaragua.  B.  F. 
Hillard  is  with  the  San  Francisco  Stock  Ex- 
change. 

Ross  Fish  was,  for  many  years,  in  San  Fran- 
cisco ; but  for  the  past  ten  years  has  been  in  the 
Treasury  Department  in  Washington. 

Wm.  H.  Hoburg  was  in  business  on  Clay 
street  in  1849-  50  with  Bennett  k Kirby,  near 
Pioche,  Bayerque  k Co.’s  store.  Subsequently 
he  was  State  Gauger.  He  is  the  same  to-day  as 
he  was  twenty-four  years  ago.  Impulsive  as  a 
boy ; utterly  unable  to  be  a hypocrite ; every- 
thing for  truth,  but  nothing  for  policy.  Wet 
feet  on  Sherman’s  Island  are,  with  him,  far 
preferable  to  the  dry  shoes  of  some  San  Fran- 
cisco Honorables. 

Charley  Warner  possessed  all  the  noble  traits 
of  his  companions.  His  life  was  a bitter  dis- 
appointment. Brought  up  to  a mercantile  life 
in  a prominent  South  American  house,  with  the 
promise  of  a partnership  in  the  firm,  after  a 
term  of  years.  The  promise  was  a falsehood ; 
and  Warner,  after  serving  faithfully  for  years, 


86 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


was  displaced  to  give  his  well-earned  position 
to  a nephew  of  the  man  who  had  deceived  him. 
From  this  wrong  he  never  rallied ; and  although 
now  beyond  all  earthly  disappointment,  still, 
his  living  friends  to-day  are  touched  with  sad- 
ness at  the  recollection  of  his  sorrows. 

Dr.  A.  J.  Bowie  is  from  Baltimore.  His  skill 
as  a surgeon  is  too  well  known  for  any  mention 
in  these  pages.  We  could  not  describe  his  con- 
versational powers,  however  great  our  desire. 
Madame  de  Stael,  Talleyrand,  Agassiz,  Daniel 
Webster,  Theodore  Parker  or  Starr  King,  could 
have  found  enjoyment  in  listening  to  Dr.  Bowie. 

Julius  0.  McCeny  is  from  Baltimore  and  a 
pioneer.  He  came  to  California  when  a lad, 
made  money  sufficient  to  study  and  graduate 
with  honors  at  Harvard  College,  and  returned 
to  practice  law  in  the  Courts  of  California. 

Winter  & Latimer  were  Baltimoreans.  A.  B. 
McCreery  was  one  of  their  employees  in  ’49 
and  ’50. 

Dungan,  Moore  & Pendergast,  on  California 
street,  were  Baltimoreans. 

James  H.  Wethered  was  from  Baltimore;  he 
was  very  successful,  and  had  every  prospect  of 
wealth;  but  by  some  rascally  maneuvering  he 
was  robbed  of  a fortune.  We  have  heard  him 
state  the  character  and  standing  of  the  distin- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


87 


guished  gentleman  (with  an  u Hon.”  prefixed  to 
his  name)  who  robbed  him,  and  use  every  taunt 
to  call  him  to  a personal  account  ; but  the  hon- 
orable gentleman  always  withdrew  with  celerity 
at  Mr.  Wethered’s  approach. 

Wm.  Bivier,  the  former  Superintendent  of 
Streets,  Beverly  C.  Saunders,  Jo.  Capprise,  Tom. 
Hamilton,  Robert  Bennett,  Tom.  Lamb  and  John 
L.  Durkee  were  from  Baltimore;  but  John 
Whitehead  was  not,  as  many  supposed,  a native 
of  the  “ Monumental  City,”  but  a North  End 
Boston  Boy. 

There  used  to  be  in  ’49-  50  and  on  into  ’51, 
a man,  who  stood  every  morning  on  the  corner 
of  Long  Wharf  (now  Commercial  street)  and 
Montgomery  street,  selling  the  u Alta  California .” 
He  always  stood  on  the  southeast  corner,  just 
at  the  curbstone,  his  broad-brimmed  felt  hat 
down  over  his  eyes,  hiding  them  and  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face.  He  held  the  papers  over 
his  left  arm,  his  left  hand  extended  beyond 
the  piled-up  papers,  just  from  the  press.  He 
stood  like  an  automaton,  never  moving  from  his 
position,  never  raising  his  head,  but  exclaiming, 
at  regular  intervals,  “Mornin’  Pa-p-u-z! 
Mornin’  Pa-p-u-z!”  the  accent  on  the  last 
syllable  of  the  second  word.  The  fingers  of 


88 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  extended  hand  closed  on  each  two-bit 
piece,  as  it  was  dropped  into  it,  when  the  right 
hand  came  swinging  slowly  towards  the  coin, 
dropped  upon  it  like  some  slow,  awkwardly 
moving  machinery,  grappled  it,  and  slowly 
swung  it  to  the  capacious  pocket  in  the  right 
side  of  his  heavy  pilot-cloth  monkey-jacket,  the 
action  and  movement  reminding  one  of  a der- 
rick-crane lightering  coals.  We  never  heard 
any  one  ask  the  price  of  a paper;  we  never  saw 
any  hesitation  on  the  part  of  seller  or  pur- 
chaser; everybody  seemed  to  understand  that 
it  was  udos  reales .”  We  have  stood  long  and 
often,  to  see  if  the  old  fellow  would  utter  some- 
thing more  than  the  stereotyped  “ M-o-r-n-i-n’ 
P-a-p-u-z ! ’ ’ hut  he  never  did ; nor  did  he  ever 
sell  any  other  paper  than  the  Alta ,”  notwith- 
standing his  cry  of  M-o-r-n-i-n’  P-a-p-u-z ! ’ ’ 
The  plural,  doubtless  referred  to  the  number 
of  “ Altos”  and  he  did  sell  a goodly  number 
for  many,  many  mornings,  and  realized  a nice 
little  sum  in  disseminating  the  news  of  the  day 
and  the  well-written  editorials  of  Frank  Soule, 
Durivage  and  the  late  lamented  Gilbert  and 
McDermott. 

The  Alta  California  office  was  on  Washington 
street,  just  at  the  upper  northwest  corner  of 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


89 


the  Plaza,  in  1850.  Gilbert,  Durivage  and  Kem- 
ble were  editors.  Frank  Soule  and  McDermott 
were  subsequently  on  the  editorial  staff.  Paul 
Morrell,  of  the  Sacramento  Union , was  foreman 
of  the  Alta  printing-office.  One  evening,  we 
were  walking  up  Washington  street,  when  we 
met  Mr.  Morrell.  “Turn  about!’’  said  he, 
“Come  and  see  me*  win  a diamond-cluster  pin 
which  is  to  be  raffled  in  the  Bella  Union.” 
“How  many  tickets  have  you,”  we  inquired. 
“One!  that  is  all  that’s  required,”  he  said. 
“Yes,  if  you  happen  to  hold  that  particular 
one,”  we  replied.  “Here  it  is,”  said  Don 
Pablo,  holding  up  a ticket.  We  went  in,  and 
he  did  win  it,  and  wears  the  same  pin  to-day. 

Kemble  was  on  the  editorial  staff  of  the  Cali- 
fornia Star , afterwards  continued  under  the 
name  of  the  Alta  California.  He  was  a very 
elegant-looking  young  fellow  in  those  days; 
and,  when  we  in  our  unsophisticated  youth  first 
saw  him  camliering  along  Montgomery  street,  on 
his  showy,  black,  high-stepping  charger,  with 
full,  flowing  mane  and  tail,  saddle  and  bridle 
profusely  decked  with  glittering,  jingling  silver 
ornaments,  we  thought  surely  this  is  some  hi- 
dalgo. He  sat  so  proudly  in  the  saddle;  his 
broad-brimmed  sombrero  worn  with  such  a Cas- 
tilian air;  his  rich  waving  hair,  black,  arching 


90 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


eyebrows,  and  long,  fringing  lashes,*  his  blue 
coat  and  gold  buttons,  and  long,  bright,  buck- 
skin gauntlets,  were  a picture  to  look  upon. 
We  thought  our  informant  was  jesting  when  he 
said  ’twas  only  an  editor;  he  looked  so  like  an 
Andalusian  grandee.  In  after  years,  we  became 
well  acquainted  with  Kemble,  and  found  him  a 
real  good  fellow — fully  equal  to  any  “ grandee” 
we  ever  knew. 

In  the  Polynesian  of  June  27,  1846,  we  read: 
“The  arrival  of  the  Brooldyn)  136  days  from 
New  York,  with  178  emigrants  for  California, 
has  created  no  little  interest  in  our  town.’  ’ In 
the  same  article  we  read:  “Mr.  Brannan  has  a 
press  with  him,  and  intends  establishing  a 
paper,  to  be  called  the  California  Star.” 

In  the  Mercantile  Library  rooms  on  Bush 
street,  are  bound  volumes  of  the  California  Star , 
published  by  S.  Brannan,  Kemble  editor.  These 
volumes  were  presented  to  the  library  by  Messrs. 
Barry  & Patten. 

“Tip”  was  no  insignificant  attache  of  the 
Alta  office.  Many  men  remember  “Tip,”  a big 
terrier,  black  and  brown — more  brown  than 
black.  Every  man  and  boy  who  knew  the  Alta 
knew  “Tip.”  His  office  was  no  sinecure.  Rats 
were  in  San  Francisco  by  the  million  in  those 
days,  and  if  we  could  have  a dollar,  or  even  a 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


91 


dime,  for  every  rat  who  received  his  quietus  from 
u Tip,”  we  should  have  far  more  capital  than 
some  of  the  bankers  commenced  with  in  early 
times.  The  rats  of  San  Francisco  and  Sacra- 
mento in  1850,  and  up  to  the  middle  of  the 
year  1858,  were  something  wonderful.  Should 
those  pests  swarm  the  stores,  houses  and  streets 
to-day,  as  they  did  then,  people  would  be  fright- 
ened, and  not  without  cause.  The  little,  four- 
footed,  rodent  devils  worked  damage  only  second 
to  the  fires  of  that  time.  Warehousemen  were 
put  to  their  wits  to  circumvent  them.  Zinc 
and  tins  were  nailed  about  the  floors  and  lower 
boarding,  like  sheathing  on  a ship,  and  signs 
assuring  “ rat-proof  storage”  were  plentiful  and 
necessary.  At  dusk,  the  rats  ventured  boldly 
out  upon  the  streets,  racing  and  scampering  in- 
cessantly ; darting  in  every  direction — squeaking 
and  fighting  with  that  vicious  spitefulness  nat- 
ural to  them.  Pedestrians  and  new  comers  felt, 
as  they  walked  among  the  countless  swarm,  a 
constant  apprehension  of  treading  upon  the 
wicked  little  vermin ; nor  was  the  new  comer 
alone  so  annoyed.  We  never  could  cure  our- 
selves at  times,  of  suddenly  halting  and  lifting 
our  hands  quickly  upward,  when  some  big  fellow 
sprang  within  an  inch  of  us,  or  struck  us  full  and 
heavy,  as  was  not  uncommon.  Sometimes,  a 


92 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


very  venomous  rat,  when  struck  at  by  the 
promenader,  would  show  fight  and  be  killed, 
rather  than  retreat.  A terrier  dog,  or  a good 
cat,  commanded  a big  price  in  those  times. 
The  captain,  cabin-boy,  cook,  or  sailor  who 
chanced  to  bring  with  him  one  of  those  much- 
coveted  creatures,  found  solid  consolation  in 
separating  from  his  faithful  companion  of  the 
voyage. 

Every,  dog  or  cat  of  them,  however,  became 
poisoned  and  off  duty,  on  the  sick-list  very  soon, 
the  result  of  their  incessant  labors.  As  time  went 
on,  and  brought  more  dogs  and  cats,  the  rat  com- 
mune was  thinned  out,  defeated  and  reduced  to 
the  ordinary  number ; so  that  the  citizen  of  to- 
day cannot,  like  the  early  resident,  distinguish 
the  rat  of  Valparaiso,  the  rat  of  Canton  or  Sing- 
apore, the  long,  white,  pink- eyed  rice -rat  of 
Batavia,  the  New  York,  Boston  or  Liverpool 
wharf-rat,  nor  yet  the  kangaroo  rat  from  Aus- 
tralia— so  well  known  and  readily  recognized  in 
the  days  when  they  held  high  carnival  in  our 
streets,  warehouses  and  dwellings. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


98 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Those  who  had  eaten  at  the  French  restau- 
rants, the  LaFayette,  the  Jackson  and  the 
Franklin,  until  they  were  tired  of  the  same 
flavors  and  odors,  however  changed  and  dis- 
guised by  the  artistic  chef;  or  if  not  satiated  by 
the  complications  and  mysteries  of  the  cuisine , 
if  it  chanced  that  finances  were  rather  low,  and 
ways  and  means  were  to  be  considered,  and  four 
bits  instead  of  a dollar  and  a half  must  suffice 
for  breakfast — one  could  get  it  for  that  sum, 
and  very  well  cooked  too,  at  the  Xew  York 
Bakery,  on  the  same  spot  where  it  now  stands, 
on  the  east  side  of  Kearny  street,  between  Clay 
and  Commercial — though  there  was  no  Com- 
mercial street  west  of  Montgomery  street  then. 
To  be  sure,  the  breakfast  was  not  elaborate — a 
cup  of  coffee,  two  hot  biscuit  and  a plate  of 
baked  beans — but  they  were  very  good;  and 
though  we  went  there  first  from  necessity,  we 
often  went  afterwards  when  we  had  plenty  of 
the  collateral , because  the  meals  were  so  very 


94 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


good,  so  relishing,  and  such  an  agreeable  diver- 
sion from  richer,  costlier  and  less  digestible 
food.  The  Irving  House,  when  it  was  opened, 
on  the  spot  where  Montgomery  Block  now 
stands,  was  a pleasant  change  to  crowds  of  men 
without  homes  and  family  comforts ; men  who, 
as  most  all  did  in  those  days,  slept  in  their 
offices  or  stores,  taking  their  meals  anywhere 
and  everywhere,  at  French,  Italian,  Spanish, 
German  or  Chinese  restaurants.  So,  when  the 
Irving  House  was  opened  by  Hu  Martrey  & 
Mason,  in  the  Hew  York  style,  neat,  clean,  with 
quiet  attendants  and  good  cooking,  with  the 
welcome  and  familiar  buckwheats  and  golden 
syrup,  the  San  Franciscan  began  to  feel  as  he 
skimmed  the  “ Alta"  or  “ Herald"  while  waiting 
for  breakfast,  as  if  the  city  of  his  adoption  were 
becoming  quite  Americanized. 

On  the  west  side  of  Kearny,  between  Clay  and 
Sacramento,  was  a little  restaurant  kept  by 
Madame  Rosalie,  a vivacious  little  French 
woman,  with  the  most  piquant  manner  and  con- 
versation, and  bewitching  toilette.  Her  chef  was 
an  artist,  and  her  little  salle  a manger  was  cosy  and 
comfortable,  the  table  linen  and  the  equipage 
nice  and  clean,  and  her  patronage  the  better  class 
of  citizens.  We  remember  going  in  one  morn- 
ing to  breakfast,  and  as  we  stopped  a moment  at 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


95 


the  counter,  to  wish  the  fair  hostess  “ Good  morn- 
ing!” a gentleman  was  asking  if  he  could  have 
some  fresh  eggs  for  breakfast.  “ How  would  Mon- 
sieur like  zem?”  inquired  the  polite  little 
woman.  “ Boiled,  if  you  please!”  said  he. 
“Oh!”  said  the  Madame,  her  face  assuming, 
quick  as  thought,  the  expression  of  one  who 
had  lost  everything  worth  retaining  Jon  earth, 
her  shoulders  raising  in  the  most  expressive  of 
shrugs,  her  little,  speaking  hands  outstretched 
with  upturned  palms,  and  her  whole  manner  the 
perfection  of  pantomimic  apology,  “Oh,  par- 
don, Monsieur!  very  good  for  ze  omelette , but 
not  for  ze  bouillie /” 

Raphael’s  restaurant  was  on  Pike  street,  be- 
tween Clay  and  Washington;  a dingy,  little  yel- 
low casa,  externally,  and  dingier,  smaller  still, 
within.  The  bill  of  fare  could  be  readily  ascer- 
tained by  a sensitive  nasal  organ,  on  entering 
the  salle  a manger  which  was  separated  from  the 
kitchen  by  a dingy,  tattered  curtain,  of  un- 
known material,  which  offered  no  impediment 
to  sound  or  odor  from  the  chefs  domain,  nor 
softened  in  the  least  the  high  key  of  Raphael’s 
loud  vociferation,  profuse  in  the  profane  mor- 
ceaux  of  many  nations,  which  he  glibly  hurled 
at  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portugese  and  En- 
glish cooks  and  waiters.  His  vocalization  had 


96 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


a running  accompaniment  of  clashing  fire-irons, 
rattling  crockery  and  cooking  utensils. 

Breakfast  in  the  main  saloon,  a room  about 
fifteen  by  twenty  feet,  was  one  dollar  without 
the  extras,  such  as  eggs,  claret,  etc.  In  the  ex- 
clusive apartment,  a little,  hot,  smoky  coop, 
closer  to  the  kitchen  fire,  and  raised  by  a few 
steps  from  the  common  room,  from  which  it 
was  separated  by  a curtain,  breakfast  was  half  a 
dollar  extra.  Many  of  Raphael’s  patrons  had 
. known  him  in  the  Parker  House,  in  Boston, 
and  knowing  his  accomplishments  as  a chef ',  wel- 
comed him  to  San  Francisco,  and  are  still  loyal 
to  him,  wherever  he  wears  the  white  cap. 

After  the  guests  became  too  numerous  for  the 
little  place  on  la  rue  de  Pike , Raphael  came 
down  to  Sacramento  street,  on  the  north  side, 
just  above  Montgomery,  No.  51,  where  the  busi- 
ness flourished,  and  his  voice  raised  a semitone, 
and  his  loquacity  increased.  Of  course  he 
didn’t  stay  here  long.  No  one  could  remain  in 
undisturbed  prosperity  in  those  days ; it  would 
have  been  too  much  good  fortune.  The  fire 
soon  swept  everything  away.  Subsequently, 
this  distinguished  chef  took  the  restaurant  of 
the  Tehama  House,  and  to  tell  of  all  the  places 
where  he  has  since  tickled  the  gastronome,  would 
fill  by  far  too  many  pages  of  this  volume. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


97 


Jim  E) , who  came  to  San  Francisco  in 

1847, — a happy,  reckless,  generous  boy,  ever 
ready  for  a spree,  or  real  hard  work  to  aid  a 
friend;  liberal  to  a fault;  the  best  man  for  you, 
and  the  worst  you  could  have  against  you,— was 
up  from  his  ranch  of  many  leagues,  once  upon  a 
time,  on  a little  pasear  in  San  Francisco,  when 
late  one  night  he  found  himself  sitting  on  a 
doorstep  on  the  Washington,  street  side  of  the 
Plaza.  We  have  said  he  found  himself  sitting 

there — we  should  have  said  police-officer  E 

found  him  sitting  there,  for  Jim  was  lost— in 

meditation.  Officer  E came  along,  stopped 

a moment,  and  touched  Jim  upon  the  shoulder, 
but  receiving  no  response,  shook  him  gently. 
‘‘What  is  it?”  inquired  Jim,  without  troubling 
himself  to  raise  his  head.  “You  must  move 

on,”  said  E . “Oh,  no,  you’re  mistaken!” 

said  Jim.  “I’m  very  comfortable  here;  you 
had  better  move  on  yourself!”  “Come,  no 

nonsense,”  said  E , “you  musn’t  sit  here.” 

“Well,  I’ll  bet  you  cinco pesos  that  I do  sit  here 
just  as  long  as  I want  to!”  “Ah,  indeed!” 
said  the  officer,  “ I see  that  I shall  have  to  take 
you  in.”  At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  Jim, 
for  the  first  time  condescended  to  raise  his 
head.  “Hallo!”  he  exclaimed  in  a surprised 

tone,  “ Isn’ t this  E ?”  “ Yes,  sir,”  answered 

7 


98 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  guardian  of  the  night  “I’m  Officer  E .” 

“Well,  now,  listen  to  me!”  said  Jim,  putting 
his  head  a little  forward  and  inclining  it  to  one 
side,  closing  his  twinkling  black  eyes,  and  purs- 
ing up  his  mouth  in  his  own  peculiar  manner — 
“Listen!  If  you  don’t  move  on  yourself  and 
let  me  alone,  I’  11  hiss  your  wife  the  first  time  I 
see  her  on  the  stage!”  We  must  explain  that 
Mrs.  E ,was  a member  of  the  dramatic  com- 

pany then  performing  in  the  city — a charming 
actress,  and  most  exemplary  woman ; and  Officer 

E being  a good  husband  and  sensible  man, 

moved  on.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  to  anybody 

who  knew  Jim  D that  he  never  would  have 

carried  out  so  ungallant  a threat;  but  his  sense 
of  humor  and  ready  invention  at  ruse  de  guerre , 
would  not  allow  him  to  lose  the  opportunity. 

Apropos  of  humor  and  invention,  we  recall  a 

very  good  thing  of  Ned  B , whose  erratic 

doings  and  sayings  were  as  familiar  as  amusing 
to  all  the  old  citizens.  If  Ned  made  ten  dol- 
lars by  waiting  ten  lines  of  notarial  manuscript, 
or  ten  thousand  by  some  speculation,  ’ twas  all 
the  same.  His  object  was  to  get  rid  of  the 
money  at  once,  in  the  quickest  possible  way — 
a dinner  at  the  La  Fayette  or  the  Jackson  House, 
a conflict  with  the  striped  king  of  the  jungle, 
or  a costly  gift  to  some  fair  acquaintance.  We 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


99 


remember  that  on  the  occasion  of  some  wedding, 
reception,  ball,  or  festivity  of  some  kind,  a young 
lady  had  said  in  Ned’ s hearing  that  she  intended 
to  wear  a japonica  in  her  hair,  if  her  brother 
succeeded  in  finding  one.  Now,  japonicas,  or 
any  other  cultivated  flowers,  were  rather  costly 
in  those  days;  a little  bunch  of  violets,  or  a 
tiny  bouquet,  such  as  might  be  purchased  to- 
day for  two  bits,  was  worth  from  two  dollars 
and  a half  to  ten  dollars,  as  circumstances  com- 
manded. But  this  was  nothing  to  be  consid- 
ered by  Ned  B , who  at  once  proceeded  to 

the  nearest  florist’ s,  where  one  solitary  japonica 
was  the  cynosure  of  eyes.  Several  flower-hunt- 
ers were  eager  to  negotiate,  but  were  appalled 
at  the  terms.  “Have  you  any  japonicas?”  said 
Ned,  bustling  in.  “There’s  the  last  one,  sir,” 
said  the  florist,  with  all  the  cool  sang  froid  of 
one,  master  of  the  situation.  “How  much  is 
it?”  inquired  Ned.  “Fifty  dollars!”  said  the 
modest  disciple  of  Flora.  “I’ll  take  it,”  said 

B , tossing  down  an  auriferous  octagonal, 

and  calmly  walking  away  to  win  one  smile. 

Some  years  later,  when  japonicas  were  more 
plentiful,  but  when,  alas!  “the  root  of  all  evil” 
had  become  inconveniently  scarce,  and  expe- 
dients were  absolutely  necessary,  Ned  had  a 
notarial  commission,  and  his  office  was  on  Mont- 


100 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


gomery,  near  Merchant  street.  One  morning  a 
notice  appeared  in  the  daily  papers,  requesting 

the  creditors  of  Sami.  W and  Frank  T , 

formerly  residents  of  San  Francisco,  hut  at  that 
time  living  in  the  city  of  New  York,  to  present 
their  claims  against  the  above  named  gentlemen 
on  or  before  the  date  mentioned  in  the  adver- 
tisement. Early  the  next  morning,  the  office 

of  Mr.  B seemed  to  be  doing  an  unusual 

business.  Many  people  were  awaiting  the  ad- 
vent of  the  notary  who  was  collecting  the  claims 
against  Messrs.  S.  W.  and  F.  T.  These  kind 
people,  in  every  trade  and  profession,  old  and 
young  of  both  sexes,  who  had  believed  in  the 
probity  of  S.  W.  and  F.  T.,  presented  their  re- 
spective accounts,  which  were  carefully  entered 
upon  a formidable  looking  book,  and  each  claim- 
ant requested  to  swear  to  his  claim  and  pay  the 
notarial  fee  of  one  dollar,  which  they  cheerfully 
did,  leaving  the  office  and  their  claims,  but  tak- 
ing with  them  new  hopes.  It  was  said  at  that 
time  that  six  hundred  and  twenty-nine  claims 
were  left  in  the  hands  of  the  enterprising  no- 
tary, for  which  privilege  each  individual  paid 
the  regular  fee  of  one  dollar. 

It  was  also  stated,  but  with  what  foundation 
we  cannot  say,  that  the  claims  averaged  $200 
each,  making  an  aggregate  of  $125,800.  From 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


101 


our  personal  knowledge  of  these  “ former  resid- 
ents,” we  conjecture  that  many  confiding  ac- 
quaintances either  failed  to  read  the  notary’s 
advertisement,  or  declined  to  present  their 

“little  bills.”  However,  Ned  B sported 

new  and  jaunty  attire,  and  a rose-bud  in  his 
button-hole  immediately  subsequent  to  the  fil- 
ing of  the  claims  at  one  dollar  each. 


102 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  X. 

Leidesdorff  street,  as  we  have  previously  said, 
was  originally  a little  levee,  built  along  the 
beach,  from  a point  near  Sacramento  street  to 
Clay  street,  and  a great  convenience  in  those 
days  it  was,  to  come  up  in  your  boat  alongside 
this  levee,  and  step  directly  ashore,  and  pass  up 
your  baggage,  without  the  necessity  of  wading 
and  hauling  your  shallop  up  the  beach. 

On  Clay  street  wharf,  at  the  end  of  Leides- 
dorff, were  the  zinc-front  stores  occupied  by 
Ferdinand  Yassault,  Simmons,  Hutchinson  & 
Co.,  J.  J.  Chaviteau,  Selim  and  Edward  Frank- 
lin, and  the  office  of  “up-river”  steamboats. 

We  remember  being  in  the  office  of  the 
steamer  “ Me Kim,'1  one  afternoon  in  June,  1850, 
on  some  business  with  E.  W.  Bourne,  purser  of 
the  u McKB  when  a very  stately  individual, 
dressed  in  a very  nice,  new  suit  of  navy  blue, 
a glazed  cap  with  brass  buttons,  a voluminous 
white  collar,  a la  Byron , walked  in.  The  dig- 
nified stateliness  of  his  step,  the  manner  of 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


103 


crossing  his  hands  over  his  folded,  hut  unbut- 
toned coat,  his  short  neck,  heavy  features  and 
long,  dark  hair,  combed  smoothly  behind  his 
ears,  attracted  our  attention.  Two  or  three  by- 
standers touched  their  hats  and  saluted  him  as 
“ Capitan /”  as  he  walked  on  to  an  old-fashioned 
counting-house  desk,  at  which  stood  an  auburn- 
haired man,  busy  at  his  ledger.  Some  conver- 
sation ensued,  which  was  not  pleasing  to  the 
industrious  clerk,  who  exploded  with  wrath. 

“Who  the  d 1 cares  whether  you  like  it  or 

not?”  said  he.  “You  can  go  to — ” (here  he 
named  an  exceedingly  sultry  climate)  “if  you 
don’t  like  it!”  Here  the  “Captain”  drew 
himself  up  with  impressive  dignity,  and  at- 
tempted to  speak,  but  the  auburn-haired  man 

rattled  on:  “Who  the  d 1 do  you  expect 

to  scare?  You  are  nothing  but  a Mississippi 
steamboat  clerk!  You  haven’t  been  Captain 
long  enough  to  know  how  to  treat  people,  and 
you’d  better  go  about  your  business  and  try  to 
learn  it.”  Completely  vanquished,  the  “Cap- 
tain” walked  out  in  a manner  strikingly  differ- 
ent from  that  of  his  entrance ; he  of  the  auburn 
hair  continuing  a volley  of  complimentary 
shots,  which  gradually  subsided  as  the  defeated 
disappeared. 

“Who  is  he?”  inquired  we  of  E.  W.  B.,  in- 


104 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


clicating  by  a nod  of  our  head  toward  the 

departed.  “That’s  Captain  Charley  B , of 

the  ‘ McKim “Who  is  he?”  nodding  toward 
the  still  growling  man  at  the  desk.  “That  is 

Tom.  B , the  clerk!”  “He  will  get  his 

walking  ticket,  won’ t he ? ” “Not  much ! ” said 
our  friend,  laughing  loudly.  “The  boot  is  on 
the  other  leg — this  is  California!” 

We  walked  away,  musing  upon  the  poten- 
tiality of  circumstances. 

The  Pacific  Mail  Steamship  Company  had 
their  office  in  Wm.  D.  M.  Howard’s  building  on 
Long  Wharf,  southeast  corner  of  LeidesdorfF, 
until  the  fire  of  June  14th,  1850,  when  they 
built  at  the  corner  of  Sacramento  and  Leides- 
dorfF, where  they  remained  until  the  completion 
of  their  new  wharf  and  offices,  almost  or  quite 
twenty  years. 

Dali  k Austin  were  on  the  southwest  corner 
of  Sacramento  and  LeidesdorfF  until  the  four- 
teenth of  June  fire,  when  they  built  a pier  at 
the  junction  of  Sansome  and  Sacramento  streets. 

Gray  k Lovering  were  on  the  south  side  of 
Sacramento  street,  on  the  corner  of  a little 
alley  which  led  through  to  California  street, 
navigable,  excepting  at  excessively  high  tides. 

Bobert  Wells  k Co.  were  commission  mer- 
chants on  Howison’s  Pier. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


105 


Locke  & Morrison  were  commission  merchants 
at  the  foot  of  Sacramento  street.  Wilmot  Mar- 
tin was  with  L.  & M.  in  those  days. 

Hussey,  Bond  & Hale  were  on  Howison’s 
Pier  at  a later  day. 

B.  Triest’s  store  was  on  Sacramento,  between 
Sansome  & Battery — Howison’s  Pier. 

Benjamin  H.  Freeman,  stair  builder,  was  on 
the  corner  of  Sacramento  and  Montgomery, 
twenty-two  years  ago ; his  office  to-day  is  in  the 
Board  of  Fire  Commissioner’s  rooms,  of  which 
Board  he  is  a worthy  and  respected  member. 

Nathaniel  Gray,  now  on  the  corner  of  Sac- 
ramento and  Webb,  was,  in  the  “spring  of  ’50,” 
on  the  corner  of  Sacramento  and  Dupont.  His 
advertisement  in  the  u Alta  California ” of  that 
date,  informed  the  public  that  he  sold  metallic 
burial  cases,  exchange  on  New  York,  purchased 
gold  dust,  and  gave  particular  attention  to  the 
undertaking  business.  By  easy  analogy,  we 
next  come  to  those  whose  profession  it  is  to 
execute  the  testamentary  wishes  of  the  men 
whose  mortal  remains  have  been  consigned  to 
the  dust  from  whence  they  came. 

Halleck,  Peachy  & Billings  were  occupying 
offices  on  Sacramento  street,  between  Mont- 
gomery and  Kearny.  Subsequently  they  re- 
moved to  chambers  in  their  own  building — 


106 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Montgomery  Block,  on  the  southeast  corner  of 
Washington  and  Montgomery.  Gen.  Halleck’s 
history  is  world-wide,  and  Messrs.  Peachy  & 
Billings  are  both  too  well  known  to  require  any 
comment  in  these  pages. 

Lambert  & Co.  (F.  F.  Low  was  the  Co.)  had 
their  store  on  Sacramento,  between  Kearny  and 
Montgomery  streets. 

Fitzgerald,  Bausch,  Brewster  & Co.  were  on 
the  same  street,  near  Lambert  & Co. 

Everett  & Co.  (Theo.  Shillaber)  were  on 
Howison’s  Pier. 

Joseph  S.  Spinney’s  shipping  office  was  on 
the  wharf,  at  the  foot  of  Sacramento  street. 

Mohler,  Caduc  & Co.  had  an  office  on  Howi- 
son’s Pier — Phil.  Caduc  built  the  pier.  M.  & 
C.  were  in  the  ship-storage  business.  They  had 
the  brigs  Piedmont  and  Casilda  off  the  end  of 
the  pier.  Ship-storage  was  profitable  for  those 
in  the  business,  and  very  safe  and  fortunate  for 
the  owners  of  the  goods,  when  one  of  the 
sweeping  conflagrations  came.  It  was  also  con- 
venient for  lightering  goods  to  the  up-river 
steamers,  saving  wharfage  and  drayage.  Our 
amiable  friend  Caduc  appears  to-day  just  as  he 
did  twenty-three  years  ago.  We  do  not  see  any 
difference  in  his  bright  eye,  black  hair  and 
beard,  or  in  his  erect  figure  and  quick  step. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


107 


He  has  taken  life  very  coolly  for  many  years, 
supplying  our  ardent  and  impetuous  fellow- 
citizens  with  ice.  Mohler,  his  former  partner, 
we  have  not  heard  of  for  many  years. 

Howison’s  Pier  commenced  at  the  corner  of 
Leidesdorff  and  Sacramento  streets,  on  the 
south  side  of  Sacramento  street,  as  if  it  were  a 
continuation  of  the  south  sidewalk,  a narrow, 
little  strip,  just  wide  enough  for  a hand-car 
tramway,  and  room  each  side  for  one  person  to 
walk.  When  you  came  to  Sansome  street  (or 
the  line  of  it,  for  there  was  no  street  then) 
there  was  a little  pier,  built  out  from  Howison’s 
Pier,  running  north,  and  on  the  east  line  of  San- 
some street.  This  pier  or  wharf  was  just  long 
enough  to  accommodate  the  store  of  Hall  & 
Austin. 

The  store-ship  Thomas  Bennett  was  on  the 
south  side  of  Howison’s  Pier,  at  the  corner  of 
Sansome  street,  and  was  headquarters  for  the 
Baltimore  boys'  Messrs.  Stroebell,  Ayer,  Ross 
Fish,  Hoburg,  Hillard,  Ryder,  Warner,  Bennett, 
McCeny,  Hossefross,  Hassam,  the  Gough  broth- 
ers, John  L.  Durkee,  Billy  Buckler  and  many 
others. 

The  corners  of  Sansome,  Battery  and  Sacra- 
mento streets  were  originally  built  of  piles — 
little  piers,  just  large  enough  to  accommodate 


108 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  stores  and  premises  forming  the  junction 
of  the  streets.  At  high  tide  goods  could  he 
lightered  from  the  shipping  to  the  stores,  and 
from  the  stores  to  the  Sacramento  and  Stockton 
steamers.  After  a while,  a narrow  row  of  piles 
was  driven  from  Sacramento  street  (Howison’s 
pier)  to  Commercial  and  on  to  Clay  street, 
and  then  extended  to  Washington,  on  to  Jack- 
son  and  to  Pacific.  Upon  the  head  of  these 
piles  was  nailed  a narrow  plank  walk,  about 
four  feet  wide,  without  rail  or  protection  of 
any  kind  whatever.  Along  this  narrow  way 
pedestrians  passed  and  repassed  in  the  dark, 
foggy  nights,  singing  and  rollicking,  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  if  their  path  was  broad  Market 
street,  instead  of  an  unprotected  four  foot  wide 
plank  walk,  with  drowning  depth  of  water  await- 
ing the  unwary  traveler  who  might  miss  his 
footsteps. 

Near  Jackson  street,  a coffee-house  was  built 
and  kept  by  W.  Meyer,  where  the  traders  of 
Pacific,  Jackson  and  Clay  street  wharves,  and  the 
masters  of  ships  in  that  vicinity,  could  get  the 
best  coffee  in  town,  without  the  inconvenience 
of  walking  all  the  way  to  Portsmouth  Square. 

When  the  plank-road  was  built  to  the  Mission 
Dolores,  the  tollgate  was  placed  on  Third  street, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


109 


west  side,  about  the  southern  line  of  Stevenson 
street.  In  those  days,  when  you  had  turned 
the  corner  of  Third  street  to  Mission  street,  go- 
ing west,  you  were  pretty  well  out  of  town. 
Opposite  the  Howard  cottages,  where  the  How- 
ard Presbyterian  Church  now  stands,  was  quite 
a lagoon,  never  wholly  dry  in  summer,  and  in 
the  rainy  season,  deep  enough  to  drown  any- 
body. When  you  had  gone  along  the  plank- 
road  as  far  as  Sixth  street,  you  came  to  a bridge, 
across  a marsh.  Just  before  reaching  this  bridge, 
on  the  right  hand  side  of  the  road,  was  the 
entrance  to  the  Yerba  Buena  Cemetery.  On  the 
left  of  the  road,  nearly  opposite  the  cemetery 
gate,  was  the  residence  of  C.  Y.  Gillespie,  a 
pleasant,  home-like  residence,  grateful  to  eyes 
becoming  familiarized  with  board  shanties,  tents, 
and  one-story,  oblong,  flat-roofed  dwellings, 
shooting  forth  long,  blackened,  unstable  stove- 
pipes. This  pretty  dwelling,  with  its  high  en- 
closure and  quiet  seclusion,  its  climbing  vines, 
its  bright  window-panes  and  neat  curtains,  its 
substantial  sheltering  roof  and  chimneys,  stand- 
ing upon  the  eminence  just  before  you  began  to 
descend  to  the  bridge,  was  so  unlike  our  homes 
in  the  California  of  those  days,  and  so  like  the 
old  homes  on  the  Atlantic  shore,  that  we  often 
used  to  think  it  was  more  affectingly  eloquent 


110 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


to  the  giddy,  prosperous,  thoughtless  young 
men  who  galloped  past,  to  and  from  the  Mission 
and  the  milk  punch,  than  the  most  solemn 
sermons  preached  at  stated  hours  in  all  the 
churches. 

When  past  the  bridge,  and  going  up  the  rise 
the  other  side,  we  saw  a little  house,  not  much 
larger  than  a full-sized  Saratoga  trunk,  from  the 
roof  of  which  bravely  pointed  a flagstaff,  with 
the  stars  and  stripes,  and  on  the  door  of  which 
was  the  word  “ Pipesville.’  ’ This  was  the 
country-seat  and  poet’s  corner  of  the  well 
known  “Jeems  Pipes,”  Stephen  C.  Massett, 
whose  songs  and  music  are  far  better  than 
thousands  over  which  the  world  makes  more 
noise  and  gives  far  greater  credit;  whose  recita- 
tions, imitations  and  essays,  both  humorous 
and  pathetic,  are  so  genuinely  good,  that  we 
are  puzzled  by  the  reflection — why  is  he  not 
rich?  and  recall  the  old  adage,  “A  prophet  has 
no  honor  in  his  own  country.’  ’ 

Evrard  & Robinson  were  the  proprietors  of 
the  Dramatic  Museum,  on  California  street,  be- 
tween Montgomery  and  Kearny,  in  1850. 

Dr.  Robinson,  in  1851,  opened  the  American 
Theatre,  on  the  corner  of  Sansome  and  Halleck 
streets,  and  did  a great  business  there.  Biscac- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


Ill 


cianti,  under  the  management  of  George  Loder, 
made  her  debut  before  a California  audience  in 
this  theatre.  Kate  Hayes,  Emily  Coad,  Miss 
Sophie  Edwin,  Miss  Sue  Robinson  (daughter  of 
the  manager),  Emily  Thorne,  Julia  Pelby,  and 
a score  of  lesser  celebrities,  filled  engagements 
there. 

One  evening,  when  some  unusual  attraction 
was  on  the  boards,  and  the  house  was  uncom- 
fortably crowded  and  exceedingly  hot,  an  Amer- 
ican Sovereign,  evidently  from  “Pike,”  occu- 
pying a seat  in  the  front  of  the  dress-circle, 
finding  the  atmosphere  too  sultry,  arose  upon 
his  feet,  and  deliberately  pulled  off  his  coat, 
laid  it  upon  the  seat,  and  sat  down  in  the  com- 
fort of  shirt-sleeves.  This  proceeding  was  ob- 
served by  only  a few  in  his  vicinity,  as  the 
attention  of  the  audience  was  given  to  the  play, 
which  just  at  that  moment  was  quite  interesting; 
but  the  “gods,”  who  act  as  mentors  for  the 
dress-circle  just  as  severely  as  for  the  actors — 
always  watchful  for,  and  delighted  with  any 
slip-up  in  either  place — detected  this  breach  of 
etiquette  before  the  offender  had  seated  himself, 
and  there  arose  from  the  sky-critics  such  a yell 
of  derision  that  the  words  upon  the  stage  were 
drowned.  The  actors  ceased  for  a moment,  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  the  cause,  supposing  the 


112 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


tumult  would  subside ; but,  as  the  bumpkin  cul- 
prit bad  no  more  idea  than  the  greater  part  of 
the  audience  what  the  clamor  meant,  he  sat, 
gaping  at  the  gallery,  wondering  why  the  show 
didn’ t go  on.  All  this  time  the  actors  stood  in 
their  places,  while  the  babel  swelled  to  some- 
thing appalling,  when  some  good-natured  per- 
son touched  the  unconventional  party  upon  the 
shoulder  and  explained  the  situation.  The  aw- 
ful din  ceased  for  an  instant,  as  the  hydra 
watched  the  dialogue.  “ Shirt-sleeves’  ’ seemed 
refractory — a terrific  roar  from  the  hydra — 
“ Shirt-sleeves”  quailed  at  the  aspect,  and  the 
angry  words  of  the  impatient  auditors  in  his 
immediate  vicinity;  started  up  with  an  air  of 
coerced  innocence,  resumed  his  toga  virittis,  and 
his  seat.  The  yell  of  triumph  that  arose  from 
the  “gods”  in  their  joyful  sense  of  victory,  was 
beyond  the  description  of  tongue  or  pen.  The 
play  proceeded,  and  the  dignity  of  San  Fran- 
cisco dress-circle  etiquette  was  established. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


113 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  most  wonderful  "case  of  mistaken  identity, 
is  that  of  Berdue,  who  was  arrested  and  charged 
with  the  murderous  assault  upon  Mr.  Jansen,  of 
Jansen,  Bond  & Co.,  and  the  robbery  of  their 
store  on  Montgomery  street. 

The  general  outline  of  this  curious  story  is 
familiar  to  all  old  San  Franciscans,  and  was  pub- 
lished in  the  u Annals  of  San  Francisco;”  but 
the  remarkable  particulars,  the  facts  of  the 
case,  are  stranger  than  fiction — would  in  a 
romance  be  deemed  overwrought.  Thomas  Ber- 
due  was  arrested  for  the  crimes  above-men- 
tioned, taken  to  the  bedside  of  Mr.  Jansen,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  in  articulo  mortis , and  recog- 
nized by  him  as  the  man  who  assaulted  him. 
Another  man  was  taken  with  Berdue  to  Mr. 
Jansen’s  bedside,  but  he  pointed  out  Berdue  at 
once  as  the  criminal. 

He  was  remanded  to  the  jail,  then  in  the  Gra- 
ham House,  on  the  corner  of  Kearny,  and  was 
there  tried  for  the  crime,  by  the  exasperated  citi- 
8 


114 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


zens,  who  no  longer  trusted  the  authorities ; but 
the  jury  failed  to  agree.  Then  the  citizens  assem- 
bled to  hang  him,  but  were  restrained  by  the 
military  until  calmer  counsel  prevailed.  Mean- 
time, Berdue  had  been  recognized  as  the  mur- 
derer and  robber  of  Sheriff  Moore,  of  Auburn, 
California,  was  taken  there,  tried,  convicted  and 
sentenced  to  death. 

There  was  not  the  slightest  room  for  doubt 
in  the  matter.  Men  who  had  known  him  in 
Australia,  and  men  who  had  worked  with  him 
in  the  mines  of  California,  swore  positively  that 
Berdue  was  not  Berdue,  but  Stuart.  They 
were  not  likely  to  be  mistaken ; the  prisoner 
was  a peculiar  looking  man,  tall,  inclined  to 
stoop,  his  heard  remarkably  black,  long  and 
pointed,  hut  his  hair  was  a rich  brown,  fine  and 
wavy,  reaching  below  his  collar.  He  had  lost  a 
joint  from  one  of  his  fingers;  had  a little  slit 
in  one  of  his  ears,  and  a scar  over  the  left  eye- 
brow. His  eye  was  black,  glittering  and  rest- 
less; his  nose,  aquiline;  and  he  had  a defiant 
way  of  raising  his  head  and  looking  around  him. 
In  his  gait  there  was  a marked  peculiarity,  a 
long,  measured  step  or  stride,  like  one  pacing 
the  measurement  of  ground.  The  witnesses 
were  not  likely  to  he  deceived,  with  all  these 
peculiar  marks  of  identity.  Therefore,  he  was 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


115 


condemned  to  hang,  and  a very  short  time 
allowed  him  for  preparation.  While  awaiting 
his  sentence,  there  lay  in  the  harbor  of  San 
Francisco  an  English  merchant  ship,  which  had 
brought  a cargo  to  this  port,  and  was  about  to 
sail  for  home.  The  Captain’s  wife  was  on  board 
with  him.  One  night,  after  they  had  turned  in, 
they  heard  a sound  like  some  one  on  deck. 
After  listening  a moment,  without  hearing  any- 
thing more,  they  ceased  to  give  it  farther  atten- 
tion ; but  presently,  hearing  an  unusual  move- 
ment in  the  cabin,  the  Captain  stepped  out  to 
ascertain  the  cause,  when  he  was  felled  by  a 
slung-shot,  the  same  weapon  used  upon  Mr.  Jan- 
sen. The  brave  wife  was  grappling  with  the 
would-be  murderer,  before  he  could  turn  from 
his  victim  to  robbery.  This  was  an  unexpected 
dilemma  for  the  ruffian.  He  tried  choking  and 
u slung- shotting”  her,  but  she  clung  to  his  hands 
with  a tenacity  that  defeated  him,  and  screamed 
with  such  a power  in  her  desperation,  that  the 
alarm  was  quickly  given,  assistance  promptly 
came,  and  the  cowardly  villain  was  soon  in  the 
hands  of  the  Vigilance  Committee  on  Battery 
street. 

This  was  the  real  Stuart!  the  murderer  of 
Sheriff  Moore  and  the  robber  of  Jansen.  When 
he  was  brought  to  daylight,  on  the  morning 


116 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


after  his  arrest,  the  people  could  scarcely  real- 
ize that  he  was  not  the  man  already  tried  and 
condemned  to  death.  When  Berdue,  who  was 
innocent  of  all  for  which  he  stood  accused,  was 
placed  beside  the  Australian  convict  and  mur- 
derer, the  resemblance  was  something  more 
than  wonderful ; it  was  awful,  under  the  circum- 
stances ! 

Not  only  in  stature,  complexion,  similarity  of 
hair — soft,  long,  brown  and  waving  over  the 
shoulders — and  long,  black,  pointed  beards; 
but  each  had  lost  the  joint  from  the  same  finger 
of  the  same  hand ; each  had  the  little  slit  in  the 
left  ear;  the  same  shaped  scar  over  the  left 
eyebrow;  and  when  they  stepped,  there  was  the 
same  peculiarity  of  gait.  The  physiognomist 
could  see  the  aquiline  nose,  the  very  black  eye, 
and  habit  of  lifting  the  head  to  look  around ; 
but  in  Berdue’ s eye,  the  disciple  of  Lavater  could 
not  see  the  cold,  wicked,  cruel  glitter  noticeable 
in  Stuart’s  eye,  nor  the  devilish  expression  of 
his  mouth  and  nostril.  When  Stuart  was 
ordered  to  be  brought  out  for  sentence,  the 
guard  led  him  forward  from  the  cell  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  committee  room  to  the  Judge’s  seat. 
Stuart  was  taller  than  the  guard  on  either  side, 
and  his  arms  were  pinioned  behind  him.  His 
black,  piercing  eyes  glanced  on  every  side,  as 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


117 


he  was  led  through  the  throng  of  men  to  the 
open  space  in  front  of  the  judgment  seat.  The 
guard  halted  with  their  prisoner  directly  before 
it.  He  fastened  his  gaze  upon  the  Judge’s 
calm,  solemn  face,  with  an  intensity  that  was 
painful.  Breathless  silence  prevailed  for  a mo- 
ment. The  Judge’s  voice  pronounced  the  mur- 
derer’s name,  and  proceeded  with  the  usual 
form,  reciting  his  crime  and  sentencing  him  to 
be  taken  from  thence  in  two  hours’  time,  and 
hung  by  the  neck  until  dead,  and  exhorting  him 
to  make  his  peace  with  Glod,  through  the  priests 
who  were  in  attendance. 

When  the  Judge’ s words  broke  the  silence 
which  fell  upon  the  multitude,  as  the  murderer 
paused  to  hear  his  doom,  Stuart  started,  lifted 
his  head  defiantly,  and  stood  like  a statue  until 
the  sentence  was  spoken. 

His  burning  eye  was  never  for  an  instant 
diverted  from  the  Judge’s  face,  yet,  by  an  inde- 
scribable flash,  it  seemed  continually  taking  in 
everything  around  him,  as  if  his  sight  and  his 
attention  were  divided;  fascinated  by  one  ob- 
ject, from  which  he  could  not  avert  his  gaze  or 
thought;  while  watchful  and  intensely  conscious 
of  every  movement  and  sound  around  him,  like 
a ferocious  beast  of  prey,  surprised  and  angry 
at  its  capture,  maddened  with  its  fetters,  keenly 


118 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


alert  with  the  hope  of  escape  and  the  desire  to 
destroy  its  captors,  but  never  a thought  of  sor- 
row or  repentance. 

At  the  close  of  the  sentence,  when  the  guard 
turned  the  prisoner  hack  to  the  corner  of  the 
room,  where  the  priests  stood  awaiting  him,  he 
strode  forward  with  the  peculiar  step,  charac- 
teristic of,  and  so  nearly  fatal  to  his  double;  but 
his  features  could  not  assume  indifference.  He 
seemed  to  be  argus-eyed;  to  note  the  slightest 
movement  near  him,  and  to  recoil  from  it  with 
that  indescribable  mingling  of  fear,  entreaty 
and  defiance  seen  in  the  eyes  of  men  awaiting 
the  terrible  details  of  execution.  Within  the 
appointed  time,  declining,  scornfully,  spiritual 
consolation,  he  was  led  down  the  stairs  from  the 
Vigilance  Committee  Rooms  to  the  street,  and 
escorted  by  hundreds  of  the  members,  each 
carrying  a loaded  revolver  in  his  right  hand,  to 
a little  pier  on  Market  street,  east  of  Battery, 
where  the  gallows  had  been  improvised  upon  a 
derrick  used  for  loading  lighters. 

The  rope  was  placed  around  his  neck,  after 
some  one  had  removed  his  hat  for  that  purpose. 
Then,  he  who  had  removed  the  hat,  a broad- 
brimmed,  low  crown,  black  felt  hat,  placed  it 
upon  his  head  so  as  to  cover  his  features,  and 
pressed  the  prisoner’s  hand,  saying,  “Be  firm, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


119 


and  ’twill  soon  be  over!”  At  a signal,  the  tall, 
silent  figure  was  suddenly  pulled  against  the 
outstretched  arm  of  the  derrick  by  hundreds  of 
hands,  grasping  the  long  rope  that  led  from  the 
gallows  to  the  rear  rank  of  the  band,  that 
marched  to  justice  one  of  the  vilest  outlaws 
who  ever  came  from  the  penal  colonies  of  Great 
Britain  to  the  shores  of  California. 


120 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XII. 

u Poverty  makes  strange  bed-fellows.”  So 
did  California  in  early  days.  Neither  gold-dust, 
not  yet  silver  dollars,  would  always  avail  in  get- 
ting a room  to  one’ s self.  A little  of  the  ex- 
perience of  those  early  days  took  the  fastidious- 
ness out  of  most  men.  Still,  some  never  could, 
though  half-dead  with  fatigue,  obtain  dreamless, 
refreshing  sleep  in  blankets,  the  dread  of  contact 
with  which  made  him  lie  down  for  the  night  in 
clothing  worn  all  day,  thus  precluding  the  re- 
freshment and  freedom  which  disrobing  gives 
the  wearied  body.  Nor  could  he,  predisposed 
to  insomnia,  sink  to  oblivion  comfortably,  after 
catching  the  glittering,  furtive  glare  from  the 
eyes  of  a silent,  outstretched  figure  in  the  bunk 
above  or  below  the  one  to  be  occupied  by  him- 
self, under  the  pillow  of  which  he  had  so 
quietly  (thinking  himself  all  unobserved)  just 
then  slid  the  little  chamois-skin  sack  containing 
his  entire  u credentials.” 

Where  the  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  now  stands, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


121 


there  was  in  1849,  and  into  1850,  a sand-hill, 
nearly,  if  not  quite  as  high  as  the  spacious  struc- 
ture now  forming  the  southwest  corner  of  Bush 
and  Sansome — a lonely,  desolate  looking  spot 
even  in  daylight,  and  at  night,  a place  to  he 
avoided.  In  the  middle  of  this  sand-hill  was  a 
hollow,  hidden  from  the  sight  of  passers-by, 
either  upon  Montgomery  street  or  the  winding 
path  from  Macondray  & Co’s  store  (on  the  cor- 
ner of  Pine  and  Sansome),  past  Cy.  Jones’  little 
cottage,  and  skirting  the  lumber-yard  of  B.  S. 
Dorr,  or  the  path  across  the  deep,  toilsome  sand- 
waste,  afterwards  occupied  by  the  Oriental 
Hotel,  and  now  by  the  warehouse  and  offices  of 
L.  & M.  Sachs.  In  the  little  hollow  of  this  sand- 
hill were  tents  and  board  shanties,  and  occa- 
sionally the  deck-house  or  old  galley  of  some 
ship,  the  occupant  of  which  suddenly  appearing 
in  the  low  doorway,  or  showing  a villainous- 
looking  head,  with  tangled  elf-locks  and  shaggy 
beard,  at  the  little  square  port-hole  window, 
like  a bandit-portrait  by  Salvator  Rosa,  in  a very 
scant  frame — an  apparition  not  in  the  least  cal- 
culated to  inspire  confidence  in  the  minds  of  those 
who,  in  broad  daylight,  had  wandered  there.  On 
the  contrary,  an  immediate  desire  seized  one  to 
regain  the  more  frequented  pathways  skirting  the 
lonely  sand-hill’s  base.  Runaway  sailors,  es- 


122 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


caped  convicts,  burglars  and  desperados  of  every 
nation,  skulked  here  by  day,  and  prowled  forth 
by  night,  to  those  acts  of  crime  and  violence 
which  called  into  existence  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee of  1851.  The  path  before  mentioned, 
skirting  the  sand-hill  rising  from  the  corner  of 
Bush  and  Battery,  extended  to  where  First  street 
now  joins  Market  street.  There  were  buildings 
on  both  sides  of  First  street.  The  tide  came 
up  under  the  workshops  on  the  east  side  of  the 
street.  It  was  here  that  James  and  Peter  Dona- 
hue commenced  laying  the  foundation  of  the 
fortune  which  has  ever  since  so  generously  aided 
all  enterprise  and  charity,  and  every  scheme  for 
the  advancement  of  public  good,  aside  from 
private  deeds  of  kindness,  and  “more  good  by 
stealth”  than  can  be  here  recorded. 

On  the  west  side  of  this  street  were  a few 
stores,  lodging-houses,  restaurants,  and  a butch- 
er’s shop.  At  the  “Isthmus,”  kept  by  Mr.  H , 

Morpheus  could  be  wooed  for  one  dollar  cada 
noche , and  won — if  the  fleas  were  propitious. 
The  sleeping  conveniences  were  not  quite  Sar- 
danapalian,  being  open  bunks,  in  tiers  three  deep, 
a row  on  each  side  of  the  apartment,  and  one 
row  reaching  along  the  entire  centre  of  the  floor. 
Dingy  gray  blankets,  and  dingier  pillows,  sans 
sachets , were  the  accessories.  Matutinal  ablu- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


123 


tion  was  ignored  by  the  worthy  landlord.  Still, 
this  resting  place  was  often  chosen,  because  it 
was  not  quite  convenient  to  pay  three  dollars 
cada  noche  for  clean  sheets  and  snowy  pillow- 
cases at  the  St.  Francis. 

There  was  a boy  (a  native  of  Australia)  who 
sometimes  gave  an  exhibition  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  boomerang  is  thrown.  He  became 
known  as  an  adept  in  casting  the  mysterious 
missile  of  Yan  Hieman’s  Land,  and  often  he 
would  be  hired  by  people  curious  to  see  the 
modus  operandij  and,  as  he  passed  along  the 
streets  to  some  large,  open  space,  convenient  for 
the  feat,  his  audience  would  increase  until  the 
number  afforded  a very  nice  little  contribution, 
when,  subsequent  to  the  performance,  the  hat 
was  passed  around.  It  was  in  the  sand-hill 
where  the  Rassette  House  was  afterwards  built, 
and  where  the  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  now  stands, 
that  the  boomerang  was  thrown.  The  boy  used 
to  swing  his  body  around  to  the  right,  sweeping 
the  piece  of  thin,  curved  wood,  like  a scimetar, 
back  as  far  as  he  could  reach,  then,  quick  as  a 
flash,  throwing  it  with  all  his  force  high  up  in 
the  air  before  him. 

It  seemed  to  the  spectator  as  if  it  went  three 
hundred  feet  before  it  suddenly  paused,  trem- 


124 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


bled  for  an  instant,  and  quickly  slid  back  again, 
down  the  same  path  upon  which  it  ascended,  as 
if  gliding  along  an  invisible  wire,  until  it  fell 
upon  the  sand,  a little  distance  to  the  rear  of 
him  who  cast  the  queer  projectile.  There  was 
an  ale  house  called  the  “ Boomerang,”  kept  by 
Langley  & Griffiths,  on  Kearny  street,  west  side, 
just  beyond  Palmer,  Cook  & Co.’s  Bank;  a real 
English  place,  “with  jolly  good  ale  and  old,” 
with  Cheshire  and  Stilton  cheese,  and,  on  stated 
days,  a roasted  sirloin,  the  sight,  odor  and  taste 
of  which  excited  in  the  breast  of  native  Ameri- 
cans great  respect  for  British  meats  and  British 
cooking.  The  proprietors  were  good  men,  and 
much  respected  by  the  citizens.  N ewspaper  men, 
literary  men,  actors,  musicians  and  others  who 
liked  quiet  and  comfort,  used  to  resort  there  to 
quaff  the  brown  October,  enjoy  a good  cigar,  and 
look  over  the  “London  Times,”  the  “Illustrated 
London  News,”  “Punch,”  “Bell’s  Life”  and 
“The  Hue  and  Cry.”  “Jeems  Pipes  of  Pipes- 
ville”  was  often  here,  and  Jeems  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  a judge  of  good  ale. 

The  “Boomerang”  has  gone  forever,  like 
very  many  of  its  habitues.  Its  courteous  hosts 
are — we  know  not  where!  New  and  preten- 
tious buildings  front  upon  the  old  site.  Nothing 
remains  save  its  memory,  which  is  pleasant. 
Requiescat  in  pace! 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO.  125 

We  believe  that  Mr.  Langley,  of  the  firm  of 
Langley  & Co.,  druggists  in  this  city,  is  a 
brother  to  mine  host  of  the  old  u Boomerang.” 

Charley  Elleard,  as  early  as  June,  1850, 
kept  a bar  and  oyster  room  on  Clay  street,  on 
the  north  side,  about  midway  between  Kearny 
and  Montgomery.  It  was  a very  neat,  stylish 
place.  Oyster  stews  (canned  oysters)  were 
one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  per  plate,  and 
considered  very  reasonable.  Fresh  oysters  were 
unknown  then ; subsequently  they  were  brought 
from  Shoalwater  Bay,  by  Captain  Russell,  and 
first  sold  by  Toney  Oakes,  on  Kearny  street, 
north  of  Washington. 

Charley  Elleard  was  a constable  in  1850,  and 
in  the  execution  of  his  official  duties,  rode  a 
black  pony,  with  white  feet,  a sagacious  equine, 
the  pet  of  everybody  about  Clay  street  and  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Plaza  and  adjacent  Kearny 
street.  His  saddle  and  bridle  were  Mexican, 
gorgeously  caparisoned  with  jingling  silver,  pol- 
ished with  care  and  glittering  in  the  sun.  He 
had  learned  the  luxury  of  polished  understand- 
ing; and  if  anybody  would  place  a two  bit 
piece  in  his  mouth,  straightway  he  would  march 
to  the  bootblack  stand  on  the  southwest  corner 
of  Kearny  and  the  Plaza,  drop  the  money  into 
the  hand  of  the  operator,  put  one  hoof  upon  the 


126 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


boot-rest,  quietly  note  its  polishing,  and  when 
finished,  raise  the  other,  gravely  wait  its  manip- 
ulation, then  walk  directly  back  to  his  master’s 
office.  His  ponyship  seemed  to  derive  especial 
enjoyment  from  this  maneuver;  whether  from 
the  polish  on  his  hoofs,  or  the  prevalent  custom 
of  trying  to  see  how  much  money  he  could 
spend,  we  do  not  know,  but  as  two  bit  pieces 
were  plenty,  and  the  pony  was  always  ready,  he 
might  often  be  seen  as  we  have  related. 

Three  years  ago,  Mr.  Elleard,  who  was  revisit- 
ing San  Francisco,  told  us  that  the  old  pony 
was  still  living  in  his  paddock  in  St.  Louis, 
stone  blind,  and  just  able  to  walk  across  the 
ground,  whinnying  feebly,  and  rubbing  his  nose 
against  his  master’ s hand  whenever  he  came  to 
look  upon  his  faithful  old  servant  and  companion. 

Everybody  in  San  Francisco  knew  the  signal 
for  a side-wheel  steamer;  and  about  the  time 
one  was  expected  with  the  mails,  men  used  to 
come  to  their  store  doors  and  look  up  at  the 
signal-house  on  Telegraph  Hill,  right  in  the  line 
of  Montgomery  street.  The  signal  for  the  side- 
wheel  steamer,  was  like  two  outstretched,  up- 
lifted arms — two  long,  black  boards,  one  on 
each  side  of  the  long,  black  signal  pole. 

Everybody  knew  this  signal,  and  knew  that 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


127 


the  P.  M.  S.  S.  Co’s  steamers  were  all  side- 
wheelers,  and  citizens  were  so  delighted  to  see 
the  signal  of  “ tidings  from  home,’  ’ that  it  was  an 
understood  thing  for  men  to  suspend  all  busi- 
ness, and  take  a drink,  in  the  pleasurable  ex- 
citement of  anticipation.  A crowd  at  once 
besieged  Adams  & Co’s  office,  impatiently 
waiting  Ben.  Moulton,  Jo.  Broderick,  or  Billy 
White,  with  the  letter-trunk,  and  never  were 
particular  about  the  change  in  paying  postage, 
so  pleased  were  they  with  a letter  in  the  well- 
known  handwriting.  Now-a-days,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  make  men,  never  similarly  situated, 
understand  the  excitement  created  by  the  sig- 
nal for  a side-wheel  steamer.  One  night  “The 
Hunchback”  was  being  performed  at  the  Amer- 
ican Theatre.  C.  Thorne,  Senior,  was  “ Master 
Walter.”  The  house  was  crowded  in  every 
portion.  The  play  had  progressed  to  where 
“Julia”  has  quarreled  with  “Clifford,”  and 
“ Master  Walter,”  just  hearing  of  it,  comes  in, 
all  excitement,  and  walks  to  the  centre  of  the 
stage.  The  actor’s  figure,  dressed  entirely  in 
black,  stood  in  bold  relief  against  the  white, 
flower-spotted  scenery  representing  the  draw- 
ing-room walls.  Throwing  up  his  arms,  long 
and  black,  he  exclaimed,  “ What  does  this 
mean  ?”  “Side-wheel  steamer,”  roared  an  im- 


128 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


mense  voice  from  the  gallery.  The  effect  was 
electrical.  Shouts  of  laughter  and  round  upon 
round  of  applause  interrupted  the  play  for  some 
minutes. 

A little  way  below  the  Cathedral,  on  Cali- 
fornia street,  are  two  old  fashioned,  wooden 
houses,  of  manv  rooms  and  halls,  and  narrow 
stair  and  passage  ways,  and  unexpected  angles, 
nooks  and  corners.  Twenty  years  ago  these 
houses  were  the  aristocratic  boarding-houses  of 
the  city,  where  dwelt  Governors,  Chief  Justices, 
U.  S.  Land  Commissioners,  Commanders  of  the 
Army  and  Navy,  and  U.  S.  Coast  Survey,  law- 
yers of  eminence,  bankers  and  merchants,  and 
beautiful,  fashionable  and  accomplished  ladies. 
The  house  next  the  Cathedral  was  kept  by  Mrs. 
Leland,  and  the  other  by  Mrs.  Petits.  Neither 
money  nor  pains  were  spared  in  making  com- 
fortable the  guests  in  these  dwellings.  There 
was  an  atmosphere  of  enjoyment,  a cordial, 
friendly  intercourse,  among  those  who  assem- 
bled at  the  dinner-tables,  spread  so  bountifully 
there,  from  ’49  to  ’56,  which  made  very  pleasant 
hours  for  the  guests  then,  and  pleasant  in  the 
recollection  of  to-day,  with  many  middle-aged 
ladies  and  gentlemen. 

The  gentler  sex  were  rare  in  those  days  and 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


129 


accordingly  worshiped,  petted,  feasted,  courted, 
and  constantly  the  recipients  of  costly  tokens 
of  regard  from  admiring  acquaintances,  eager 
for  the  society  and  humanizing  influences  from 
which  California’ s isolation  debarred  them. 
The  loveliest  girl  of  to-day  in  San  Francisco 
would  open  wide  her  eyes  at  the  homage  which 
was  laid  twenty  years  ago  at  the  feet  of  very 
commonplace  ladies — ladies  whose  school-girl 
days  were  a long  way  back  in  the  perspective 
of  life’s  road.  The  fair  ones  of  those  days, 
many  of  them,  found  in  San  Francisco  fortunes 
as  rich  as  the  toiling  miner  unearthed  far  up  in 
the  mountains.  We  know,  among  our  aristocracy 
of  San  Francisco,  wealthy  dames  who  were  pretty 
servant  girls  in  years  gone  by;  one  in  parti- 
cular, who  was  a nurse-maid  in  one  of  those 
wooden  houses  of  which  we  have  been  writing. 
Neither  did  we  ever  know  anything  but  good 
of  them;  nor  do  we  ever  meet  them  without 
feeling  glad  of  the  good  fortune  which  is  theirs. 

There  is  a man  whose  face  is  familiar  to  us, 
and  to  all  who  frequent  the  business  haunts, 
who  excites  a different  sentiment  whenever  we 
meet  him.  Several  years  ago  he  was  a day  la- 
borer for  a man  who  was  engaged  in  successful 
business  in  this  city;  who  lived  in  his  store,  and 
slept  there;  frugal,  temperate  and  industrious, 
9 


130 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


gradually  accumulating  sufficient  to  make  a 
home  for  his  wife  and  little  ones,  then  far  away 
in  another  country.  One  morning  his  store  was 
not  opened  as  usual,  and,  upon  investigation,  the 
neighbors  found  him  dead  in  his  bed.  It  was 
known  that  the  departed  never  had  done  any 
banking — keeping  his  money  hidden  somewhere 
in  his  premises.  It  could  not  be  found;  but 
the  man  in  his  employ,  who  never  had  any 
means  of  acquisition,  save  his  daily  wages,  never 
sought  employment  elsewhere,  but  very  soon 
after  his  employer’s  demise  loaned  several  thou- 
sand dollars  upon  valuable  improved  property; 
and  from  that  day  to  this  he  has  been  among 
the  capitalists  of  San  Francisco.  ISTo  one  is  his 
associate.  He  walks  the  streets  as  if  seeking 
something  upon  the  pavement.  His  manners 
are  morose,  or  spasmodically  gay— plenty  of 
money,  but  never  a day’ s happiness  ! 

Another:  a large  holder  in  a certain  richly 
remunerative  stock.  He  is  the  trustee  for  the 
property  of  a deceased  friend’ s child.  For  years 
he  has,  by  every  possible  means,  kept  from  its 
rightful  channel  a large  part  of  the  constantly 
increasing  income,  diverting  to  his  own  coffers 
another’s  property.  In  the  eyes  of  the  busi- 
ness community  he  is  one  of  our  most  respect- 
able citizens ; in  his  own  estimation,  an  unhappy 
thief. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


131 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

We  were  at  a wedding  the  other  evening  in 
the  Starr  King  Church,  Rev.  Hr.  Stebbins, 
Pastor.  The  sight  of  the  pretty  bride  made  us 
more  fully  realize  the  flight  of  time,  than  any- 
thing that  has  occurred  to  us  in  our  California 
life;  because  we  remembered,  as  if  it  were  only 
one  year  ago,  the  day  the  bride  was  born,  and 
remember  our  taking  a congratulatory  glass  of 
wine  with  her  father.  She  was  born  on  board 
a storeship  in  this  harbor  twenty  years  ago.  It 
was  very  comfortable,  living  on  a storeship  in 
those  days,  and  rather  an  enviable  situation. 
The  cabins  were  fitted  up  in  the  cosiest  and  most 
convenient  way;  there  was  no  fear  of  fire,  as 
with  those  ashore ; no  dust ; and  if  callers  were 
coming,  they  could  be  observed  at  some  con- 
siderable distance  in  the  approaching  boat,  and 
received  without  any  inconvenience  or  the  em- 
barrassments incident  to  deshabille  or  the  surprises 
of  city  life.  There  were  many  storeships  then, 
and  where  they  were  anchored  seemed  a long 


132 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


way  out  in  the  harbor;  but  to-day  rows  of  ware- 
houses stand  where  the  old  dismasted  hulks 
floated  with  their  stored  merchandise. 

How  many  men  now  living  in  all  the  glory  of 
soup,  fish  and  three  courses  daily,  from  the 
artistic  hand  of  a chef,  can  well  remember  the 
pie,  doughnuts  and  coffee  they  took  with  a royal 
relish,  at  the  stand  in  the  old  ship  Apollo,  on 
Battery  street. 

Two  bits  for  a cup  of  coffee ; two  bits  for  a 
piece  of  pie ; or  if  hunger  and  economy  were  to 
be  considered,  two  doughnuts  for  a quarter  of 
a dollar.  Hardly  anybody  said  “two  bits”  or 
quarter  of  a dollar  in  those  days.  It  was  udos 
reales ! ” u cuatro  reales ! ” Uun  peso ! ” N early  all 
the  new  comers  had  either  crossed  the  Isthmus 
or  came  by  the  “Horn,”  stopping  at  old 
Spanish  cities  en  route , picking  up  sufficient 
de  la  lengua  to  ask  for  anything  they  wished  to 
purchase.  This  coffee  stand  was  made  by 
cutting  into  the  Apollo's  hull,  just  under  the 
cabin  windows,  and  many  a man  who  stepped 
ashore  from  his  long,  weary  voyage,  took  his 
first  meal  in  California  at  this  place. 

The  proprietor  afterwards  built  a commodious 
store  for  general  merchandise  at  the  corner  of 
Battery  and  Sacramento  streets,  then  the  extreme 
end  of  Howison’s  Pier,  where  in  honorable  trade 
he  accumulated  an  independence. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


133 


The  men  are  still  plentiful  who  like  to  tell  of 
landing  on  the  beach  between  Long  Wharf  and 
Jackson  street;  of  seeing  the  water  at  very  high 
tide,  reaching  to  the  west  line  of  Montgomery, 
near  the  corner  of  Jackson  street. 


{From  the  Alta  Oalfornia.'] 

The  old  Niantic  Hotel  is  a thing  of  the  past — it  has 
been  torn  down  and  carted  off  piecemeal.  Yester- 
day the  floor  were  4 ‘ turned  up,  ” much  to  the  gratifi- 
cation of  the  Micawber  Convention,  which  has  been 
in  daily  session  at  the  corner  of  Clay  and  Sansome 
streets  since  the  work  of  demolition  commenced. 
The  principal  object  of  interest  is  the  hull  of  the  old 
ship  Niantic , which  formed  the  foundation  of  the 
building,  and  a portion  of  which  is  now  plainly  visi- 
ble. The  old  hulk  has  lain  there  for  over  twenty -two 
years,  and  many  old  San  Franciscans  distincty  re- 
member the  time  when  she  was  used  as  a storeship 
until  the  fire  of  May,  1851,  which  left  nothing  but 
the  charred  hull  of  the  old  vessel.  The  Niantic  was 
an  English  ship,  and  sailed  from  Liverpool  to  Valpa- 
raiso about  a quarter  of  a century  ago.  In  the  latter 
port  she  was  purchased  by  Moorhead,  Whitehead  & 
Waddington,  a Chilian  merchant  firm.  They  refitted 
the  vessel  and  sent  her  to  Panama,  in  command  of 
Captain  Cleveland.  She  reached  that  port  about 
April,  1849,  just  when  the  California  gold  fever  was 
at  its  height,  and  people  were  flocking  from  all  parts 
of  the  world.  The  Niantic  was  at  once  billed  for  San 
Francisco,  and  in  a few  days  after  she  sailed  with  a 
cargo  of  tropical  produce  and  248  passengers,  arriv- 
ing in  this  harbor  on  the  fifth  of  July,  1849,  after  a 
voyage  of  sixty-eight  days.  Within  a week  after  her 


134 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


arrival  the  crew  deserted,  in  accordance  with  estab- 
lished usage,  and  the  old  ship  was  left  anchored  idly 
in  the  stream— a useless  ‘ ‘ elephant  ” on  the  hands  of 
her  consignees,  Cook,  Baker  & Co.  A few  months 
later  she  was  sold  to  parties  here,  who  hauled  her 
close  in  shore,  near  what  was  then  the  foot  of  Clay 
street,  and  there  she  has  lain  snugly  ever  since.  After 
the  May  fire,  in  1851,  the  building  since  known  as 
the  Niantic  Hotel  was  erected.  It  was  first  leased  by 
L.  H.  Roby  (who  committed  suicide  some  two  years 
ago),  under  whose  management  it  secured  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  the  best  hotel  in  the  city  at  the  time. 
In  1851  Roby  sold  out  to  a man  named  Johnson,  who 
kept  the  hotel  a short  time,  and  sold  out  to  Daniel 
Parrish  in  1852.  While  Parrish  kept  the  hotel  one 
of  his  boarders  was  arrested  on  a charge  of  stealing 
a very  large  sum  of  money.  He  was  convicted  and 
sent  to  the  State  Prison  for  a term  of  years,  but  the 
stolen  money  was  never  recovered,  although  it  was 
supposed  at  the  time  that  it  was  secreted  somewhere 
about  the  hotel,  and  diligent  search  was  made  for  it. 
P.  T.  Woods,  who  had  been  clerking  for  Parrish, 
.bought  his  employer  out  soon  after  the  event  above 
referred  to.  He  did  a thriving  business  and  made 
money — so  much,  in  fact,  that  when  he  settled  up  and 
“vamoosed”  for  parts  unknown,  those  who  knew  said 
that  he  carried  with  him  more  money  than  he  took  in 
while  “running”  the  Niantic  Hotel. 

N.  H.  Parkell  next  leased  the  hotel,  and  while  he 
was  in  possession  the  convict  one  day  entered  the 
hotel  office,  said  that  he  had  buried  a lot  of  money 
beneath  the  doorstep,  and  asked  to  be  permitted  to 
dig  for  it.  Pour  or  five  feet  of  sand  had  been  thrown 
over  the  place  where  the  thief  said  that  he  had  buried 
the  money.  But  although  it  was  all  removed,  the 
money  was  not  found;  and  although  the  laborers 
lately  engaged  in  pulling  down  the  house  searched 
diligently,  it  could  not  be  found.  Parkell  continued 
the  lease  till  1864,  when  he  transferred  it  to  Miss 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


135 


Mooney,  sister  of  Assistant  Engineer  Con.  Mooney, 
and  she  continued  as  landlady  of  the  house  down  to 
the  last  moment  of  its  career. 

Charles  L.  Low  is  owner  of  the  lot,  and  he  pro- 
poses to  erect  forthwith  a handsome  and  substantial 
four  story  brick  building.  The  lower  floors  will  be 
occupied  by  fruit  and  produce  markets,  the  second 
story  by  printing-offices,  and  the  third  and  fourth 
stories  for  various  purposes.  Haying  carefully 
stored  his  mind  with  the  foregoing  facts,  any  person 
will  be  fully  qualified  to  mingle  with  the  Micawbers 
and  play  himself  off  for  an  old  forty-niner. 

The  Niantic  storeship,  at  the  corner  of 
Clay  and  Sansome  streets,  was  burned  on  the 
fourth  of  May,  1851.  Upon  its  site  the  Nian tic 
Hotel  was  erected,  which  stood  until  1872,  when 
it  was  torn  down  to  make  way  for  stores  built 
by  the  owner  of  the  land,  Mr.  C.  L.  Low.  The 
Niantic  Hotel  was  erected  upon  the  ruins  of  the 
old  storeship,  without  digging  any  cellar.  When 
the  excavation  was  made  for  the  cellars  of  the 
new  building,  many  relics  of  the  fire  of  ’51 
were  unearthed.  The  old  hull  at  the  time  of 
the  fire  was  imbedded  in  the  mud  some  eight 
feet  or  more  below  the  water  line.  At  this  line, 
after  the  conflagration,  the  debris  was  cleared 
away  and  the  floor  timbers  of  the  hotel  laid, 
covering  and  keeping  safe  from  public  knowl- 
edge, stowed  away  in  the  remnant  of  the  old 
hull,  thirty-five  baskets  of  champagne  and  many 


136 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


other  articles  on  storage.  Twenty-one  years  on 
storage!  We  have  not  learned  whether  any 
hill  for  this  has  been  sent  to  Mr.  Yan  Brunt; 
hut  the  wine  was  placed  on  storage  by  that 
gentleman  and  his  partner  at  that  time — Mr. 
Yerplanck.  Their  store  was  on  Sansome  street, 
adjoining  the  Niantic.  The  wine  was  the 
Jacquesson  Fils  brand — a superior  wine,  very 
popular  in  California,  where  dry  wines  are 
always  preferred.  This  long  buried  wine  was 
found — or  rather  the  bottles  were  found — in 
most  remarkable  preservation;  the  wires,  and 
even  the  twine,  being  in  better  condition  than 
many  shipments  just  off  the  voyage  from  France. 
Champagne  deteriorates  after  the  third  year; 
but  this  wine  had  been  so  completely  covered 
as  to  be  almost  excluded  from  the  air,  and  some 
of  the  wine  effervesced  slightly  on  uncorking, 
and  was  of  very  fair  flavor. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


137 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  1849,  previous  to  taking  the  house  on 
California  street,  above  Kearny,  Mrs.  Petits  oc- 
cupied the  house  standing  on  the  spot  where 
the  Merchants’  Exchange  now  stands,  on  Cali- 
fornia street,  below  Montgomery.  The  guests 
at  this  house  were  the  leading  men  among  the 
mercantile  and  professional  class,  and  it  was 
esteemed  a privilege  to  obtain  quarters  there. 
The  house  stood  at  some  distance  from  the 
street.  After  it  was  destroyed  by  fire,  the  Baron 
Terloo,  a Russian  nobleman,  built  two  houses 
on  this  lot. 

The  house  afterwards  built  on  the  southwest 
corner  of  Leidesdorff  and  California  was  called 
“The  Cottage.”  Ellen  Moon  was  the  landlady. 
The  adjoining  house  was  kept  by  Mrs.  Manning. 
Mrs.  Moon  was  from  Australia,  and  the  wife  or 
widow  of  an  English  shipmaster.  The  first  time 
we  saw  her,  she  reminded  us  of  the  landlady  of 
the  “ Green  Dragon,”  in  Martin  Chuzzlewit ; nor 
do  we  ever  think  of  the  landlady  of  the  “Green 


138 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Dragon”  now  without  seeing  the  person  of  Mrs. 
Moon.  She  was  the  personification  of  neatness. 
“There  rwere  roses  in  her  cheeks — aye,  and 
worth  gathering,  too ! ” This  quotation — Dick- 
ens’ remark  upon  Mrs.  Lupin’s  appearance  — 
came  to  mind  the  moment  we  saw  her.  The 
place  had  a cosy,  comfortable  air — -real  English 
— and  the  wines,  liquors  and  ale  in  her  bin 
needed  no  bush.  The  end  and  aim  of  her  exist- 
ence seemed  to  be  somebody  else’s  happiness  and 
comfort,  and  self-abnegation.  After  leaving 
this  place  she  opened  the  “Ivy  Green”  on  Mer- 
chant street,  which  she  kept  until  her  death. 
Many  who  wore  phylacteries  upon  their  fore- 
heads, and  from  their  lofty,  social  pinnacle 
looked  a long  way  down  upon  Ellen  Moon,  will 
lift  their  vision  high  as  Dives’  to  look  upon  her 
in  the  world  where  deeds  outweigh  the  words 
of  Pharisees. 

We  have  all  heard  of  the  party  of  miners  who 
found  an  old  bonnet  on  the  road  in  ’49,  and 
simultaneously,  without  a word,  dropped  picks, 
shovels  and  rockers,  clasped  hands,  as  if  by  pre- 
concerted signal,  and  capered  in  an  amorous, 
laughing  ring,  around  the  cast-off  head  dress. 
We  remember  the  day,  when  a woman  walking 
along  the  streets  of  San  Francisco  was  more  of 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO.  139 

a sight  than  an  elephant  or  giraffe  would  be  to- 
day. Men  lingered  to  see  them  pass,  crowded 
to  the  wharves  when  they  arrived,  and  followed 
them  along  the  streets  to  their  dwellings,  and 
stared  out  of  countenance  the  house’s  front. 
We  were  in  Riddle’s  auction  rooms  one  day,  at 
a crowded  sale,  when,  in  a momentary  pause  of 
the  auctioneer’s  voice,  some  one  shouted,  u Two 
ladies  going  along  the  sidewalk!”  Instantly 
the  crowd  of  purchasers  rushed  out,  pell-mell, 
swarming  the  street  so  suddenly,  and  in  such 
numbers,  that  the  unconscious  objects  of  the 
commotion  were  startled  with  the  impression 
that  fire  or  earthquake  had  come  again. 

Judge  S told  us  that  when  he  arrived  in 

1849,  and  walked  up  from  the  ship,  with  his 
wife  and  several  little  children,  men  crowded 
about  the  children,  asking  permission  to  kiss 
them,  to  shake  hands  with  them,  to  give  them 
gold  specimens  out  of  their  chamois  skin  sacks, 
or  a little  gold  dust  to  make  them  rings,  or 
something  for  an  ornament,  following  them  a 
long  way,  as  if  fascinated  by  the  sight  of  their 
child  faces  and  voices.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George 

W , who  kept  a very  select  boarding-house 

on  Clay  street  in  the  early  days,  told  us  of  a 
similar  experience  with  their  children.  The 
boys  and  girls  of  San  Francisco  in  that  time, 


140 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


who  were  not  spoiled,  were  remarkable  children. 
The  sight  of  their  faces  touched  tender  places 
in  the  hearts  of  men,  divided  by  a continent’ s 
breadth  from  their  own  little  ones ; and  to  give 
other  children  toys,  money,  or  something  for 
their  happiness,  was  a natural  impulse,  however 
questionable  as  to  ultimate  results. 

When  the  Custom  House,  on  the  corner  of 
California  and  Montgomery,  was  destroyed  by 
the  fire  of  May  4th,  1851,  the  treasure  saved  in 
the  brick  vault  was  removed  to  the  bank  of 
Palmer,  Cook  & Co.,  corner  of  Washington  and 
Kearny.  A guard,  a la  militaire , composed  of 
the  Custom  House  officials,  armed  and  equipped, 
under  the  command  of  T.  Butler  King,  Collector, 
escorted  the  revenue  money  from  the  ruins  of 
the  Custom  House  to  the  bank,  “in  due  and 
ancient  form.”  This  action  of  the  Collector 
excited  much  ridicule  and  many  newspaper 
squibs,  and  brought  forth  a comic  ode,  satirical 
of  T.  Butler  King.  To  those  well  informed 
upon  the  numbers,  character  and  proceedings 
of  the  professional  burglars,  murderers  and 
thieves  infesting  San  Francisco,  the  action  of 
the  Collector  in  guarding  so  thoroughly  the 
Government  money  entrusted  to  him,  was  laud- 
able and  praiseworthy  in  the  highest  degree. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


141 


We  remember  that  while  the  Custom  House 
boys  were  standing  in  the  street  awaiting  the 
opening  of  the  vault,  Captain  Macondray,  who 
happened  in  the  neighborhood,  said:  “Well, 
boys,  suppose  we  go  over  to  the  ‘Blue  Wing,’ 
and  join  in  a universal  drink,  before  the  army 
takes  up  its  line  of  march  ? ’ ’ 

Tom  Harvey  replied:  “The  motion  is  in 
order,”  and  G-eorge  Bromley  said:  “So  mote  it 
be!”  and  the  Captain’s  hospitable  offer  was  car- 
ried into  effect.  This  “universal  drink”  was  a 
favorite  expression  of  the  Captain’s,  when 
offering  hospitality  to  any  numerous  gathering. 
All  the  residents  of  that  time  knew  Captain 
Macondray,  his  kind  face  and  welcome  smile, 
his  sparkling  eye  and  short,  curling  hair,  his 
compact  figure,  and  the  firm,  honest  grasp  of 
his  hand. 

One  of  the  familiar  objects  of  San  Francisco 
was  Captain  Macondray  on  his  black,  pacing 
horse,  a sleek,  easy-moving  nag,  with  four  white 
feet.  Erect  in  his  saddle,  his  gray,  felt  hat, 
with  the  rim  caught  up  close  against  the  crown 
each  side,  a la  chapeau  militaire — moving  about 
in  all  the  business  streets,  the  Captain’s  face 
and  form  were  ever  pleasant  to  the  eyes  of  his 
fellow-citizens  then,  as  now  is  the  memory  of 
his  sterling  virtues. 


142 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


The  old  signal  station  on  Telegraph  Hill  was 
a very  important  feature  in  the  days  when  those 
long,  black  arms  stretched  out  to  tell  thousands 
of  anxious  husbands,  fathers  and  lovers  that  the 
steamer,  hearing  news  of  hope  and  happiness,  or 
of  the  death  of  loved  ones,  was  then  in  sight. 
How  that  signal  for  a “side-wheel”  (the  mails 
were  brought  only  on  the  side-wheel  steamers) — 
how  it  did  wake  up  the  street!  All  along  the  line 
of  stores  were  men  out  upon  the  walk,  their 
faces  all  turned  in  one  direction,  looking  at  the 
signal.  They  couldn’t  do  any  business  after  a 
sight  at  those  well-known,  outstretched,  up- 
lifted arms,  almost  human  in  their  welcome 
significance.  “Come  in,  bye  and  bye!”  the 
merchant  would  say  to  his  customer;  “the 
steamer  is  telegraphed!”  “What!”  (with  de- 
lighted surprise) ; “didn’t  know  that  !”  and  the 
would-be  buyer  left  in  a hurry.  The  idea  of 
news  from  wife,  children  or  sweetheart  to  a 
man,  thirty  days’  distance  away,  made  him  ig- 
nore business  at  once. 

The  old  telegraph-station  was  a place  of  much 
resort.  It  was  attractive  from  its  associations, 
and  it  was  good  exercise  to  walk  up  there,  and 
the  view  repaid  the  trouble.  There  were  good, 
generous,  refreshing  milk-punches  to  be  had 
in  the  room  beneath  the  look-out  on  the  roof, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


143 


where  privileged  visitors  could  ascend  and  use 
the  telescope.  Without  a telescope,  to-day,  it 
will  be  very  interesting  to  any  man  who  knew 
San  Francisco  twenty  years  ago — yes,  ten  years 
ago — to  walk  up  to  the  hill-top  and  “view  the 
landscape  o’er.”  There  are  thousands  of  men 
in  San  Francisco  who  have  not  been  to  the 
summit  of  Telegraph  Hill  in  eighteen  years,  nor 
will  our  eloquence  coax  them  to  attempt  it; 
but  it  is  really  worth  the  trouble. 

Mr.  Bradley  (now  of  Bradley  & Rulofson),  the 
daguerrean — there  were  no  photographers  in 
those  days — practised  his  art  on  the  west  side 
of  Montgomery,  between  Washington  and  Jack- 
son.  His  prices  were  from  eight  dollars  up- 
wards, according  to  the  size  and  style  of  the 
portrait  and  frame.  The  courteous  artist  was 
hardly  allowed  time  to  breathe,  much  less  to  eat, 
or  take  a moment’s  rest  for  a day  or  two  before 
the  departure  of  a steamer.  Californians  were 
so  anxious  that  their  friends  in  civilized  coun- 
tries should  see  just  how  they  looked  in  their 
mining  dress,  with  their  terrible  revolver,  the 
handle  protruding  menacingly  from  the  holster, 
somehow,  twisted  in  front,  when  sitting  for  a 
daguerreotype  to  send  “to  the  States.”  They 
were  proud  of  their  curling  moustaches  and 


144 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


flowing  beards;  their  bandit-looking  sombreros; 
and  our  old  friend  Bradley  accumulated  much 
oro  en  polvo,  and  many  yellow  coins  from  the 
private  mints  of  Wass,  Molitor  & Co.,  Moffatt  & 
Co.,  Dubosque,  and  Baldwin  & Co.  Mr.  Bradley 
appears  just  the  same  to-day  (at  Bradley  & 
Rulofson’ s)  as  he  did  twenty-three  years  ago; 
wears  the  same  conventional  silk  hat,  so  seldom 
seen  in  those  days — so  universally  worn  now; 
the  same  quiet  black  suit;  and  his  hair  and  beard 
were  almost  as  silvery  then  as  now.  Neither  has 
he  altered  in  the  urbanity  and  unvarying  courtesy 
which  made  him  so  popular  and  filled  his  purse 
twenty-three  years  ago.  Many  of  the  old  daguer- 
reotypes and  ambrotypes  are  preserved  by  those 
to  whom  they  were  sent ; and  many  a middle- 
aged  husband  and  father  has  had  them  care- 
lessly handed  to  him  by  his  wife  or  the  big 
boys  and  girls,  in  the  secret,  who  were  much 
amused  at  his  questions,  and  failure  in  recog- 
nizing Mr.  Bradley’s  production,  of  which  he 
was  so  proud  so  many  years  ago. 

John  S.  Eagan’s  paint,  oil  and  varnish  store 
was  on  Montgomery  street,  two  or  three  doors 
north  of  the  Custom  House.  Mr.  Eagan  was  a 
very  prominent  member  of  Howard  Engine  Co., 
and  was  enthusiastic  in  every  thing  for  pub- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


145 


lie  good  or  private  charity,  and  never  hesitated 
about  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  giving 
liberally  on  the  slightest  provocation.  Boh. 
Bernard  used  to  paint  signs  and  fancy  work  for 
Eagan,  and  it  was  quite  a pleasure  to  watch  his 
steady  hand  and  rapid  progress  with  the  brush 
and  pencil.  He  used  to  stand  off  from  his  work, 
holding  his  brush  at  arm’ s length,  drawing  the 
color  along  the  lines,  plumb  up  to  the  angles  of 
the  letters,  as  easily,  and  calmly,  and  exactly, 
without  pause,  tremor  or  hesitation,  as  if  uncer- 
tainty or  nervousness  were  something  entirely 
unknown  to  him.  It  was  a treat  to  see  him  sweep 
his  pencil  on  the  curves  of  great,  street-sign 
letters  as  gracefully  and  easily  as  if  he  were  wav- 
ing a signal,  or  giving  from  the  leader’s  stand,  to 
an  orchestra,  the  tempo  for  an  adagio  movement. 
Mr.  Bernard  worked  so  easily  and  so  rapidly,  that 
his  salary  for  the  week’s  effort  was  little,  if  any 
less,  than  that  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States  for  an  equal  period.  Fires  were  so  fre- 
quent then,  and  the  gambling-saloons  so  spa- 
cious, so  elaborately  decorated  and  gilded  every 
time  they  were  rebuilt — so  many  new  business 
firms  were  forming  and  changing,  requiring  new 
signs  and  numbers,  that  Messrs.  Eagan  and  Ber- 
nard accumulated  money  in  a most  interesting 
manner.  They  were  not  u Eagan  & Bernard”  as  a 
10  1 


146 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


firm,  although  they  were  in  the  same  store,  and 
worked  for  each  other’s  interest  much  better 
than  partners  in  business  generally  do. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


147 


CHAPTER  XY. 

Lieut.  Derby  (“John  Phoenix”),  U.  S.  A.,  was 
standing  in  Barry  & Patten’s  doorway,  then  Xo. 
116  Montgomery  street,  one  pleasant  morning, 
when,  raising  his  grave,  thoughtful  eyes,  he  saw 
a horse  and  wagon  passing  by,  navigated  by  a 
phlegmatic  Teuton.  “ Eagle  Bakery”  was  in- 
scribed in  heavy  capitals  upon  the  vehicle. 

“Hi!  hallo  you!”  exclaimed  Derby.  The 
countryman  of  “Our  Fritz”  slowly  turned  his 
stolid  gaze  upon  the  lieutenant,  who  was  beck- 
oning so  earnestly,  that  the  driver  hauled  up, 
slowly  turned  his  horse  around  to  the  curbstone, 
and  inquired:  “ Yat  you  vants?”  “I’ll  take  a 
baked  eagle!”  said  Phoenix.  “Eh?  vat  ish 
dat?”  said  the  sleepy-headed  fellow.  “A  baked 
eagle!  don’t  you  understand?”  said  Phoenix, 
with  feigned  impatience.  “I  pakes  pread!” 
said  the  indignant  deutscher , preparing  to  drive 
on.  “Stop!”  said  Derby,  in  an  authoritative 
voice.  “You’re  an  imposter!  How  dare  you 
deceive  the  public  in  this  way?  Here  have  I 


148 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


been  for  six  weeks  trying  to  get  a baked  eagle, 
which  my  medical  adviser  prescribes  for  my 
health,  and  you  have  raised  hopes  only  to  de- 
ceive me.  Now,  listen!  if  you  don’t  have  those 
words— that  falsehood,  painted  out  immediately, 
I’ll  have  you  put  under  arrest  and  court-mar- 
tialed! Away!”  He  waved  the  astonished, 
adopted  citizen  from  his  august  presence;  and 
he  was  not  slow  to  go,  as  he  had  evidently,  from 
the  appearance  of  his  widened  mouth  and  eyes, 
taken  the  affair  as  a serious  matter. 

Many  people  have  the  impression  that  Lieut. 
Derby  was  a devotee  of  Bacchus,  and  we  have 
heard  it  said  that  he  was  a very  dissipated  man. 
We  know  that  in  our  acquaintance  with  him, 
from  ’51  to  the  time  of  his  being  ordered  East, 
we  never  saw  him  put  to  his  lips  a glass  of  wine, 
ale  or  spirits,  or  anything  that  could  intoxicate. 
We  have  been  much  in  his  company,  and  under 
all  kinds  of  circumstances,  where  the  weakness 
would  have  “cropped  out”  had  it  been  latent, 
but  a strong  lemonade  was  the  extent  of  his 
libations,  in  all  the  time  we  knew  him. 

When  Derby  graduated  from  West  Point,  he 
was  one  morning  in  the  office,  at  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  army,  in  Washington.  Gen.  H , 

one  of  the  oldest  officers  in  the  army,  a venera- 
ble, white-haired  soldier,  was  seated  at  his  desk, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


149 


engaged  in  conversation  upon  some  official 
business.  Upon  its  conclusion,  he  turned  to 
the  young  cadet,  a big  lad,  and  greeted  him  with 
a very  pleasant  “Good  morning,  Mr.  Derby, 
happy  to  see  you,  sir!  take  a seat.”  Derby  sat 
down,  bowing  his  acknowledgments,  with  the 
demure  look  he  often  assumed.  “Anything 
new?”  asked  the  General.  “Well,  no,  sir! — 
nothing  particular,  excepting  that  remarkable 
gun,  invented  by  Captain , of  the  artil- 

lery,” said  the  young  graduate  modestly,  looking 
into  his  cap,  which  he  was  diffidently  twirling 
in  his  hands.  “What  gun?  I have  heard 
nothing  about  it!”  said  the  General,  with  awak- 
ening interest.  “Please  describe  it!”  Several 
officers  of  various  grades  and  rank,  present  at 
the  time,  were  listening  attentively.  Derby 
arose,  placed  his  cap  upon  the  chair,  looked 
towards  the  table  where  drawing  materials  were 
lying,  modestly  requesting  permission  to  illus- 
trate the  principle  of  the  new  gun.  The  General 
eagerly  acquiesced.  Derby,  who  was  quite 
facile  with  the  pencil,  rapidly  sketched  a dia- 
gram of  the  gun,  surrounded  all  the  time  by 
interested  auditors.  “Now,  sir,”  said  the  un- 
assuming but  talented  young  engineer,  holding 
up  before  the  old  General  his  neat  and  lucid 
drawing:  “This  is  Captain — s invention 


150 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


for  throwing  projectiles  in  a curved  line,  to 
sweep  them  around  and  behind  intervening  ob- 
jects.” The  General,  who  had  been  scrutinizing 
the  illustration  with  the  utmost  attention,  now 
turned  the  most  searching  look  upon  the 
speaker’s  earnest,  modest  and  serious  face. 
Derby  clearly  and  succinctly  explained  the 
principle  of  the  weapon,  the  shape  of  the  pro- 
jectile, its  motion  and  effect,  thus  and  so.  Let- 
ter A,  the  muzzle  of  the  gun ; letter  B,  the  line 
describing  the  flight  of  the  destructive  missile, 
its  course,  and  so  on.  His  language  was  so 
fluent,  the  words  so  clear  and  distinct,  his  use 
of  artillery  terms  betraying  such  great  intelli- 
gence upon  the  subject,  that  his  listeners,  not 
quite  grasping  the  idea,  charged  their  obtuse- 
ness to  ignorance  upon  the  subject. 

“Has  the  principle  been  tested?”  inquired  the 
General,  when  the  young  subaltern  had  ceased. 
“Yes,  sir;  Sergeant  McCue  fired  the  gun  off 
yesterday  morning.”  “What  was  the  result?” 
“The  shot  passed  entirely  around  the  barracks, 
striking  the  gunner  in  the  os  coccyges .”  The 
veteran  officer  turned  square  upon  the  speaker, 
that  he  might  see  him  more  directly  through 
his  spectacles — like  one  who  doubted  his  sense 
of  hearing.  There  was  a breathless  silence, 
while  the  oldest  General  in  the  army  was  read- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


151 


ing  the  blank,  puzzling  face  of  the  youngest 
graduate  of  West  Point. 

A General  was  a General  twenty  years  ago, 
and  consternation  was  on  every  soldiers  face; 
but,  to  the  great  relief  of  all,  the  General  burst 
out  with  a hearty  laugh,  which  was  joined  in 
by  every  one.  “Mr.  Derby!”  said  the  lenient 
old  soldier,  placing  his  hand  gently  upon  the 
youg  scapegrace’s  shoulder,  “remember  that  it 
is  only  once  in  a man’s  lifetime,  and  under  pecu- 
liar circumstances,  that  such  a thing  would  be 
overlooked.”  And  it  is  reasonable  to  believe 
that  no  other  individual  in  all  the  army  could, 
under  the  circumstances,  have  had  immunity. 

A real  “ London-cry”  candy  man  held  forth 
in  the  early  days  on  the  west  side  of  Mont- 
gomery, near  Clay  street.  His  little  shop-on- 
wheels  displayed  its  store  of  sweets,  over  which 
he  waxed  eloquent.  His  sonorous  voice  rang 
out,  with  a distinct  and  banging  emphasis,  that 
would  not  be  ignored.  He  was  something  of  a 
humorist,  and  made  good  local  hits,  going  on 
with  the  most  serious  voice  and  grave  face ; his 
head  lifted,  but  with  downcast  eyes,  like  one 
exhorting  against  time,  for  a good  salary.  His 
tall,  black,  narrow-rimmed  hat  could  never 
have  been  built  off  English  territory;  his  pre- 


152 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


cise  cravat  and  unrelenting  shirt-collar  were 
cockney;  his  telling  tone  and  clear  pronuncia- 
tion, vaunting  his  goods,  betrayed  a long  ex- 
perience: “ Hore-hound — Pep-per-mint — and 
— Win-ter-green!  Large  lumps ! and  strong-ly 
fla-vored!”  A short,  dead  pause,  and  “’Ere 
they  go ! ” This  was  three  times  given  in  a 
tone  to  excite  the  envy  of  a drill-sergeant  or 
a stump-speaker ; occasionally  diversified  with 

the  assertion  that  Judge bought  them; 

that  Col.  — bought  them;  always  naming 

some  prominent  individual.  One  evening  he 
amused  the  public  by  exclaiming,  in  a voice  of 
unusual  power:  “Buy  ’em  up!  Everybody 
buys  ’em!  Tom  B — tt — e’s  sweetheart  buys 
’em!  ’Ere  they  go!”  Busy-bodies  lost  no 
time  in  informing  Tom  of  the  distinction  forced 
upon  him.  He  strolled  along,  listening.  Out  it 
rang  upon  the  air.  Watching  an  opportunity  to 
speak,  unheard  by  others,  he  walked  up  quickly, 
saying,  “Look  here!  you  quit  that,  or  I’ll 
horsewhip  you!”  “ All  right!”  said  the  itiner- 
ant in  a soft  voice — so  unlike  those  vocifer- 
ous lungs,  bowing  low  and  courteously;  then, 
straightening  up,  he  roared  out  in  the  well- 
known  voice,  “Tom  B — tt — e’s  sweetheart  does 
not  buy  ’em!  !”  Tom  looked  uneasily  around. 
The  horsewhip  threat  wouldn’ t work  ; there 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


153 


was  a rapid  and  evidently  satisfactory  consulta- 
tion. T.  B had  undoubtedly  concluded,  as 

many  men  since  that  day  have  also  believed, 
that  when  prominent  men  are  possessed  of  the 
public  ear,  and — little  facts — ’twere  best  to  sub- 
sidize. Whatever  were  the  terms  of  that  whis- 
pered compact,  the  obnoxious  utterance  was 
never  heard  again. 

The  figure,  dress,  and  especially  the  hat  of 
the  candy  man,  calls  to  our  memory  the  fancy 
coachman  and  his  stunning  carriage  and  pair — 
a real  English  turnout,  the  hired  possession  of 
which,  for  an  hour  or  two,  almost  led  a man  into 
the  belief  that  he  was  more  than  the  self-same 
individual  on  foot — that  he  surely  must  have 
been  intended  by  Nature  for  the  occupant 
of  that  equipage,  despite  Fortune’s  shortcom- 
ings. The  driver,  horses  and  carriage  came 
from  Australia,  and  took  up  their  position  on 
the  southeast  corner  of  the  Plaza  and  Kearny 
street.  The  driver  was  the  most  convention- 
ally correct  type  of  an  English  coachman,  pos- 
sible to  imagine.  His  sleek,  tall,  black  hat, 
drab  coat  of  many  capes,  his  spick-span  gaunt- 
lets, his  whip,  and  the  technique  of  its  position 
upon  his  knee,  with  his  hand  clasped  upon  its 
long  handle,  just  above  the  polished  rings,  re- 
minded one  of  a king  of  England,  sitting  on 


154 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


his  throne,  with  sceptre -handle  resting  on 
the  royal  knee,  as  represented  in  our  child- 
hood’s picture  books.  It  was  such  a wonderful 
thing  to  ride  behind  this  dignitary;  to  make 
calls  or  “ shop,”  hedged  round  by  such  a tower 
of  strength;  so  like  “Pa’s  carriage,”  and  not 
the  least  odor  of  a hired  hack.  Ten  dollars  an 
hour,  if  engaged  three  hours,  or  more;  fifteen 
dollars  per  hour  for  two  hours ; and  twenty  for 
the  single  hour.  Seldom  was  he  idle.  He  made 
his  turnout  so  attractive  that  patrons  felt  satis- 
fied, and  he  never  wanted  for  custom.  We  be- 
lieve that,  as  a rule,  those  who,  seeking  public 
support,  perform  their  part  better  than  any 
other,  get  their  reward.  The  coachman  of  our 
sketch  most  surely  did,  for  he  purchased  a 
wholesome  hill  of  exchange  on  “the  old  lady 
of  Threadneedle  street”  when  he  left  for  home. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


155 


CHAPTER  XYI. 

There  were  a number  of  little  public  houses, 
of  the  lowest  order  and  worst  reputation,  scat- 
tered about  on  the  hillside,  bounded  by  the 
lines  of  Montgomery,  Kearny,  Pacific  and  Broad- 
way, and  still  higher  up  the  hill,  in  1849,  ’50 
and  ’51.  Shabby  little  dens,  with  rough,  hang- 
dog fellows  lounging  about  their  doorways; 
fellows  with  their  features  concealed  by  slouched 
hats;  fellows  who  always  had  a way  of  sliding 
out  of  sight  when  you  looked  at  them,  as  if 
they  were  averse  to  looking  any  one  in  the 
eye.  Skulking  knaves,  shunning  observation  in 
the  daylight,  but  very  inquisitive  after  dark, 
coming  close  up  to  the  passer-by,  with  an 
effrontery  of  persistent,  impudent  curiosity, 
very  disconcerting  to  the  timid  or  unarmed,  be- 
nighted citizen.  Nearly,  or  quite,  all  of  these 
cribs  were  kept  by  Sydney  men  and  women  of 
the  lowest  class.  The  signs,  swinging  or  nailed 
above  the  doors,  were  the  old,  historical,  En- 
glish or  Scotch  public-house  names,  found  all 


156 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


over  Great  Britain  and  Australia.  The  familiar 
ale-house  names,  “The  Magpie,”  “The  Bobby 
Burns,”  “The  Boar’s  Head,”  “The  Bird  in 
Hand,”  “The  Jolly  Waterman,”  “Tam  O’Shan- 
ter,”  “The  Bay  of  Biscay,”  and  such  time-honor- 
ed inn  names.  The  man  whose  path  happened 
to  pass  these  places  after  night  fall,  in  those  days 
when  the  way  was  all  unevenness  and.  darkness, 
the  hill-side  steep  and  toilsome,  no  lights,  and 
the  neighborhood  with  very  few  respectable 
dwellings,  did  not  feel  as  safe  as  when  upon  the 
populous  streets  below.  If  his  step  were  firm 
and  regular,  if  he  carried  his  head  up  and  went 
bravely  on  his  way,  his  steps  were  dogged  but  a 
short  distance.  If  the  skulking  follower  were 
suddenly  confronted,  and  heard  the  sharp,  omi- 
nous click,  click!  he  “vanished  like  a ghost  at 
cock-crow;”  but  woe  to  the  purse,  if  not  the 
person,  of  the  unlucky  man  who  came  that  way 
oblivious  of  his  whereabouts,  his  watchfulness 
lulled,  and  napping,  by  reason  of  potent  and 
deep  libations.  Many  a man  came  to  conscious- 
ness at  daylight,  lying  chilled  and  benumbed  on 
the  damp  hillside,  with  his  'head  in  an  agony  of 
fiery  pain,  unable  to  bridge  the  impenetrable 
chasm  of  the  past  few  hours ; the  only  gleam  of 
light  upon  the  situation,  dawning  upon  him 
through  the  discovery  that  his  money,  watch, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


157 


knife  and  pistol — eveiy  article  of  value  lie  re- 
membered having  on  his  person  when  last  con- 
scious— were  gone.  The  sand-bag  weapon  of 
assassination  is  silent,  sudden  and  deadly, 
unless  the  robber  be  merciful — cares  only  for 
the  money,  not  the  life — happens  to  be  in  good 
humor,  and  does  not  strike  maliciously.  The 
sand-bag  is  sure  death,  if  the  blow  be  heavy, 
leaving  no  outward  mark,  no  fracture,  no  trick- 
ling blood  or  swelled  abrasion.  It  jars  the 
brain  to  utter  and  eternal  oblivion.  u Found 
dead - — no  marks  of  violence — apoplexy  the  supposed 
cause  f was  not  an  unfrequent  notice  in  the  Alta 
and  Herald  of  those  days. 

MacClaren’s  Hotel,  on  the  little  lane  leading 
from  Mission — just  where  the  residence  of  Geo. 
Wright  used  to  stand,  now  Woodward’s  Garden 
— through  to  Folsom  street,  was  a cozy,  quiet, 
sleepy  little  public  house,  built  close  against 
sand-hills,  rising  higher  than  its  roof,  shel- 
tering it  from  the  north  and  west  winds,  as  it 
stood  facing  the  south  and  basking  in  the  fer- 
vent sunlight,  just  midway  in  the  sandy  path 
between  the  streets,  and  sufficiently  remote  to 
lose  the  noisy  rumble  of  the  carriages  on  both. 
A jolly  place  to  lounge  in  easy,  ricketty,  old  China 
cane  chairs  and  on  bulgy  old  sofas,  with  one’s  hat 


158 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


tipped  down  over  face  and  eyes,  shutting  out  the 
sun’s  light,  while  feeling  its  warm,  revitaliz- 
ing comfort  stealing  through  every  nerve  and 
hone  in  the  sleepy  body,  and  no  sudden  clat- 
ter of  hoofs  or  rattling  carriage  wheels  dashing 
up  to  disturb  one’s  somnolent  enjoyment. 
The  roadway  of  the  lane  was  sandy  and  dry 
in  some  places,  and  in  others,  a little,  lazy 
brook  crept  across,  smoothing  and  wetting 
it  like  the  sea  beach;  and  as  you  sat,  doz- 
ing away  the  hours,  idle,  for  the  time,  ’ tis  true, 
but,  imbibing  at  every  pore  a fresh  stock  of  life 
and  strength  for  future  labors,  the  voices  of 
new  comers  reached  your  ear  before  the  tramp- 
ing of  their  horses’  hoofs,  muffled  by  the  soft 
sand ; and  the  impulse  to  get  into  a dignified, 
sitting  posture  gave  way,  sleepily,  to  the  ques- 
tion, “From  which  direction  are  they  coming?” 
You  were  quite  sure  they  were  from  the  Mis- 
sion road,  when  first  you  heard  them,  and  lifted 
back  your  hat  just  enough  to  blink  a little  at 
the  trees  skirting  that  portion  of  the  lane ; but 
the  effort  was  too  much  — the  bright  sunlight 
dancing  through  the  reticulated  stems  and 
leaves,  was  quite  confusing  to  your  long-shaded 
eyes,  and  you  drew  down  your  sheltering  som- 
brero , and  sank  back  again  to  muse  upon  it. 
You  dropped  asleep  in  a second’s  time,  and  in 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


159 


the  same  time  woke  again,  fully  impressed  with 
the  belief  that  hours  had  passed  since  you  fell 
off,  while  waiting  to  see  who  they  were — those 
people  coming  down  the  lane  from  the  Mission 
road-end,  and — very  curious — there  they  were  ! 
right  upon  the  ground  before  the  house,  but 
from  the  Folsom  street  way.  Housing  and 
vainly  endeavoring  to  solve  the  problem,  whether 
it  was  MacClaren’ s beer,  or  the  Stilton,  that  had 
made  you  “lose  yourself” — you  observe  that  the 
guests,  laughing  and  chatting  so  merrily,  are 
George  Aiken,  Charley  Bebello  and  Captain 
Maryatt,  three  vivacious  young  Britishers,  all 
well  mounted  and  good  horsemen. 

They  do  not  permit  you  to  cloze  in  the  sun 
during  their  stay.  At  sight  of  them  Mac  hails 
his  spouse,  who  quickly  appears  with  cold  meats, 
pickles  and  relishes,  an  old  English  cheese,  but- 
ter, and  a big,  home-made  loaf,  while  Mac  com- 
mences opening  beer — not  one  bottle,  but 
many — long,  yellow-labelled  bottles  of  Allsopp. 
What  an  appetite  for  beer,  and  for  bread  and 
cheese,  too,  those  young  Englishmen  had  in 
those  days;  and  as  to  that  matter,  their  Ameri- 
can cousins  were  not  very  slow,  in  those  bright 
days  of  youth,  health,  hope  and  unsophisticated 
stomachs.  What  a wonderful  incentive  to  eat- 
ing, is  the  air  of  California,  and  how  good  the 


160 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


bread  and  butter  used  to  be  at  MacClaren’s! 
Good  butter  in  those  days  was  a rare  thing. 
Many  people  used  to  ride  out  to  Mac’ s just  to 
eat  the  scarce  delicacy.  They  would  become 
indignant  at  their  sour  French  bread  or  stereo- 
typed German  loaf,  and  firkin  butter,  via  Pana- 
ma, worked  over  in  lime-water,  stamped  in  little 
pats,  and  sworn  to  as  fresh  ranch  butter;  and 
thinking  of  the  sweet,  fresh,  cool,  genuine 
luxury,  and  the  great,  crisp,  brown,  home-made 
English  loaf,  always  to  be  found  at  Mac’s,  they 
would  straightway  march  to  the  nearest  stable 
and  hire  a saddle  horse  or  vehicle,  to  make  the 
quickest  time  for  that  cozy,  old,  English  public- 
house,  now  gone  the  way  of  all  mortality. 

William  Vincent  Wallace,  the  highly  gifted 
composer  of  “Maritana,”  was  in  San  Francisco 
in  its  early  days.  The  precise  time  of  his  ar- 
rival from  Australia  we  never  knew,  nor  the 
date  of  his  departure  for  New  York;  but  we 
are  sure  that  he  was  in  the  latter  place  very 
early  in  1853.  Wallace  came  every  day  while 
in  San  Francisco,  to  an  ale-house  on  California 
street,  very  near  where  now  is  the  office  of  the 
Spring  Valley  Waterworks  Co.  The  ale-house 
was  kept  by  an  Englishman  named  Jackson,  a 
man  of  culture,  taste  and  talent,  and  something 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


161 


of  an  artist.  He  molded  a little  plaster  medallion 
of  Wallace’ s head  in  profile,  an  artistic  produc- 
tion, and  a good  likeness.  Wallace,  as  we  re- 
member him,  was  about  five  feet  eight  inches  in 
height;  a round,  white,  high  forehead,  and  nearly 
bald  upon  the  crown,  but  the  rest  of  his  well- 
shaped head  plentifully  clothed  with  light  brown, 
almost  flaxen  hair.  He  wore  the  English  style 
of  side  whiskers,  but  no  moustache  or  imperial ; 
his  weight  must  have  been  near  one  hundred 
and  seventy  pounds. 

It  is  said  that  Wallace  was  an  Irishman,  and 
we  are  quite  certain  that  he  was,  although  his 
appearance  was  that  of  a Scotchman  or  blonde 
Britisher.  His  manner  was  reticent,  save  with 
congenial  people,  but  quietly  affable  at  all  times. 
Wallace’ s wife  died  in  San  Francisco,  and  was 
buried  in  Happy  Yalley,  which  seemed  at  that 
time  more  remote  than  the  Lone  Mountain  of 
to-day.  Happy  Yalley  was  frequently  a place 
of  sepulture  prior  to  the  establishment  of  Yerba 
Buena  cemetery;  but  the  spot  where  all  those 
dead,  still  sleep,  can  now  be  no  more  pointed 
out,  than  the  blue  ocean  wave,  which  once 
opened  to  receive  its  dead,  gently  enfolding  and 
concealing  them  forever. 

In  the  second  stofy  of  Macondray  & Co’s 

II 


162 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


store,  corner  of  Sansome  and  Pine,  were  sleep- 
ing apartments  for  members  of  the  firm  and 
clerks  in  the  house.  One  afternoon  towards 
dusk,  Tom  Cary,  who  had  been  posting  books 
in  one  of  the  up-stairs  rooms,  where  he  might 
not  be  disturbed,  came  out  of  the  room  towards 
the  stairway  descending  to  the  main  store,  when 
he  noticed  Belcher  Kay’s  head,  just  above  the 
edge  of  the  floor  around  the  staircase.  Kay, 
who  was  taking  a rapid  survey  of  the  interior, 
started  in  a confused  way,  saying  “Ah,  how  d’ye 
do? — rooms  up-stairs,  eh? — do  people  sleep  up 
here? — nice  place,  eh? ” “ Yes,  Belcher,”  said 

Mr.  Cary,  in  a pointed  way,  “there  are  several 
men  sleep  up  here,  and  they  are  always  well 
armed;  and  we  have  watchmen,  and  dogs  that 
do  not  sleep  in  case  the  watchman  should  hap- 
pen to.”  The  tone  of  this  reply  was  too  sig- 
nificant not  to  be  understood  by  Belcher,  who 
simply  said,  “Ah,  just  so.  Grood  evening,  Mr. 
Cary,’  ’ and  withdrew. 

Kay,  who  had  been  elected  to  the  office  of 
Port  Warden  for  San  Francisco,  and  treated  with 
much  kindness  by  gentlemen  who  were  for- 
merly pupils  in  his  school  for  the  art  of  self  de- 
fense, had  failed  to  appreciate  it,  returning  to 
his  old  ways,  and  association  with  thieves  and 
burglars,  as  subsequent  events  verified.  He 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


163 


was  assisted  by  a confrere  from  Boston  in  his 
escape.  The  day  we  came  ashore  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, we  were  walking  with  a friend  who  came 
on  our  ship,  and  who  at  home  was  a pupil  at 
Kay’s  gymnasium.  Kay  was  delighted  to  see 
one  of  his  old  scholars,  and  asked,  as  a great 
favor,  if  he  would  go  down  to  his  boat — Kay 
was  the  Port  Warden  then — and  make  a few 
notes  for  him,  as  he  had  injured  his  right  hand 
and  was  unable  to  hold  a pencil.  The  whilom 
pupil  at  once  consented,  and  we  went  off  aboard 
the  ship.  Kay  issued  his  orders,  which  were 
duly  noted  down  by  the  impromptu  clerk,  who 
soon  came  ashore.  When  we  were  alone,  he 
laughed,  saying,  “You  didn’t  understand  that 
dodge!”  “What  is  it?”  “Nothing;  only  Kay 
never  could  write.” 

In  the  month  of  January,  ’51,  or  perhaps  some 
time  earlier,  in  the  last  of  ’ 50,  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Page  was  unloading  some  lumber  on  the  beach, 
between  Sacramento  and  California  streets,  as 
near  as  we  can  remember,  about  where  Halleck 
street  joins  Leidesdorff.  While  giving  his 
orders  to  the  workmen  engaged,  Mr.  Page  was 
peremptorily  ordered  to  remove  that  lumber 
and  vacate  the  premises.  Looking  around  at 
the  person  so  dictatorial,  Mr.  Page  saw  Captain 


164 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Folsom  gesticulating  violently ; and  before  any 
explanation  could  be  made,  the  Captain  drew 
his  revolver  and  fired  at  Mr.  Page.  The  shot 
struck  the  watch  in  the  latter’ s pocket,  hitting 
it  with  a slant,  glancing  off,  and  perforating 
the  side  of  a boat  about  fifty  feet  distant.  Mr  • 
Page  wore  his  watch  in  the  waistband  pocket 
of  his  pants,  as  was  the  fashion  in  those  days, 
and  a very  fortunate  thing  for  Mr.  Page  that  it 
was  the  fashion  just  at  that  moment.  The  oc- 
currence attracted  some  attention  and  a little 
gathering  at  the  moment,  otherwise  no  notice 
was  taken  of  it.  Might  was  right  in  those  days, 
and  Captain  Folsom  was  very  arbitrary  and  dic- 
tatorial, by  reason  of  his  position  and  the  funds 
at  his  command,  and  was  accustomed  to  imme- 
diate obedience.  He  was  a generous,  impulsive 
man,  but  too  hasty  on  this  occasion,  having  no 
reason  to  fear  any  squatter  pretension  from  Mr. 
Page,  who  was  as  good  a citizen  as  lived  in  the 
community;  and,  we  are  pleased  to  say,  that  we 
consider  him  such  at  the  present  writing.  Pis- 
tols were  very  freely  used  by  hot-headed  people 
in  early  days.  Captain  Folsom,  we  know,  was 
ashamed  of  his  conduct,  for  he  afterward  dealt 
largely  in  a business  way  with  the  man  whose 
life  he  had  endangered. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


165 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Starkey,  Janion  & Co’s  store  was  on  the 
southwest  corner  of  California  and  Sansome 
streets.  It  stood  in  an  enclosure  with  gates. 
The  building  was  two  stories,  with  a steep, 
sloping  roof,  and  had  a balcony  or  veranda 
around  the  second  story.  The  building  was 
painted  white,  and  the  posts  and  rails  of  the 
veranda  were  painted  green.  The  building  in 
those  days  seemed  quite  substantial  and  spa- 
cious. In  the  evening,  after  business  hours,  the 
gates  were  closed,  all  snug  and  secluded,  when 
ruddy-faced,  portly  men  might  be  seen  leisurely 
pacing  the  balcony,  smoking  their  Xo.  1 Manilas, 
suggestive  of  men  who  had  dined  well,  and 
drank  good  old  port  with  dessert;  comfortable 
looking  men,  the  sight  of  whom  would  excite 
the  envy  of  some  passer-by,  who  had  u dined 
with  Duke  Humphrey.”  The  fire  swept  away 
this  house,  leaving  no  vestige  of  the  comfortable 
looking  composite  of  store,  counting  house  and 
residence. 


166 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


West  of  Starkey,  Janion  & Co’s  store,  on  the 
south  side  of  California  street,  were  the  stores 
of  Grlen  & Co.,  Backus  & Harrison,  S.  H.  Wil- 
liams & Co.,  DeBoum,  Yigneaux  & Gj-risar,  and 
Gr.  B.  Post  & Co. 

After  the  fire  of  June  14th,  1850,  J.  L.  Bid- 
dle & Co.  built  an  extensive  shanty  of  China 
matting,  wisely  concluding  that  if  conflagrations 
were  to  be  so  frequent,  it  were  better  to  raise  a 
mere  shelter  for  their  goods,  at  the  least  possi- 
ble expense. 

The  building  occupied  by  this  firm  prior  to 
the  fire  of  June  14th,  was  a substantial  three 
story  wooden  store  on  Sacramento  street,  north 
side,  just  above  the  corner  of  Leidesdorff.  The 
upper  story  of  this  building  was  used  as  a 
dormitory  for  all  the  acquaintances  of  the  firm 
who  wished  to  sleep  there — ship  masters  who 
happened  to  be  late  ashore— new  arrivals  who 
had  not  established  themselves — any  man  or 
boy  who  knew  Biddle  & Co.  It  was  a spacious 
room,  nearly  square.  Hammocks  were  slung 
at  every  corner  and  available  post.  All  about 
the  room  were  cots,  stretchers  and  mattresses, 
plenty  of  blankets  and  pillows,  but  no  sheets 
or  pillow-cases. 

Against  the  walls  on  all  sides  were  large 
China  water-jars,  China  wash-stands  and  large 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


167 


China-stone  wash-basins,  and  cocoanut-shell 
dippers.  Nearly  all  the  furniture  then  was 
of  China  importation;  and  very  commodious, 
stylish  and  comfortable  it  was,  too.  The 
man  who  went  early  to  bed  in  this  apartment, 
might  sleep  undisturbed  until  midnight  or  a 
little  after;  but  about  that  time,  several  young 
men,  not  long  from  Boston,  would  return  from 
protracted  meetings — young  men  musically  in- 
clined, who  wished  to  rehearse  just  once  more 
before  retiring.  These  birds  of  Minerva  would 
sometimes  discover  that  a sleeper  had  posses- 
sion of  a very  comfortable  place  they  fancied 
for  themselves,  which  would  cause  a playful 
argument  on  the  sleeper’s  right  of  possession. 
When  Judge  Blackburn,  Bob  Parker  and  Char- 
ley Southard  were  in  town,  Biddle  & Co’s  hos- 
pitable roof  sheltered  them,  and  they  were  not 
disposed  to  sleep,  as  long  as  any  fun  could  be 
got  out  of  anybody  or  anything. 

Judge  Blackburn  would  have  a wrestling 
match  with  Charley  Southard,  and  as  the  Judge 
was  about  six  feet  four  and  Charley  about  four 
feet  six,  it  was  considered  rather  unequal,  and 
excited  lively  comments  from  the  aroused  and 
thoroughly  interested  fellow-lodgers.  Bets  were 
freely  offered  by  Jim  Biddle,  Eben  Niles,  Ward 
Eaton,  Jim  Leighton,  Harry  Spiel,  et  al. 


168 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Some  one  would  throw  a pillow,  or  a light  cane 
chair,  or  some  harmless  thing,  to  trip  up  the 
contestants,  which  roused  the  ire  of  some  one 
else  who  had  a wager  pending;  then  there  was 
a general  hullabaloo,  and  pelting  of  pillows, 
mattresses,  china  cushions,  etc.,  a perfect  pan- 
demonium. There  were  no  ladies  or  children  to 
disturb ; nothing  that  the  fellows  did  seemed  to 
hurt  them;  their  heads  and  stomachs  seemed 
stronger  than  copper,  and  sleep  was  almost 
ignored. 

Captain  Charley  Scholfield  was  always  to  be 
seen  at  Riddle  & Co’s  in  the  day  time;  he  had 
a little  house  of  his  own — his  “ranch,”  as  he 
liked  to  call  it.  He  was  a very  eccentric  man ; 
affected  the  nautical,  bluff  style,  interspersing 
his  remarks  very  freely  with  emphatic  exple- 
tives, and  assuming  a rough  deportment  entirely 
foreign  to  his  nature,  for  he  was  all  gentleness 
and  kindness.  He  always  wore  a full  suit  of 
navy  blue,  prim,  plain  and  old-fashioned,  a 
brown  vicuna  hat,  never  changing  the  style,  as 
the  city  changed  and  ’49  customs  gradually 
vanished.  He  clung  to  everything  belonging 
to  the  days  when  everybody  was  free  and  easy, 
liberal  and  unconventional,  and  gradually  dis- 
appeared from  his  old  haunts — or,  perhaps,  they 
disappeared  from  him — and  he  lived  almost  in 


OP  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


169 


seclusion,  in  his  little  box  on  Post  street,  next 
to  the  large  lot  on  which  Alcalde  Hyde’s  house 
stood.  Here,  to  the  last,  he  lived  as  they  used 
to  live  in  the  pioneer  days;  his  little  single  cot 
and  blankets,  the  big  China  water-jar — its  cover 
a piece  of  redwood,  with  a nail  in  the  centre  for 
a handle — the  cocoanut-shell  dipper;  a demi- 
john under  the  table;  clean  glasses  on  the  table 
— the  Captain  was  scrupulously  neat — and  a box 
of  cigars  on  the  shelf,  welcome  to  all  who  had 
the  open  sesame  of  an  early  residente.  It  is  many 
years  since  the  Captain  went  the  way  of  all 
good  pioneers;  but  many  are  left  who  will  recog- 
nize his  peculiarities  recalled  by  our  sketch. 

The  fire  of  June  14th,  1850,  smoked  out  the 
habitues  of  Piddle  & Co’ s upper  story,  and  most 
of  them  went  to  the  rooms  over  Mr.  Hoff’s 
store,  on  the  extreme  end  of  Howison’ s Pier, 
which  was  crowded  with  goods  of  every  de- 
scription, saved  from  the  fire.  Close  against 
Mr.  Hoff’ s store  was  a large  quantity  of  cloth- 
ing— black  dress  suits.  The  morning  after  the 
fire,  we  were  all  standing  on  the  pier,  looking 
at  the  ruins  of  the  city,  when  a pleasant,  black- 
eyed  little  man,  with  an  aquiline  nose — a brisk 
little  man,  who  had  been  standing  thoughtfully 
looking  at  the  goods  on  the  pier,  and  many  suits 
lying  in  the  mud,  where  they  had  been  crowded 


170 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


off  the  pier — suddenly  came  up  to  us  and  said: 
Ll  Gentlemen,  if  any  of  those  clothes  will  fit  any 
of  you,  help  yourselves!  You  are  quite  wel- 
come to  them;  there’s  no  place  to  store  them, 
and  they’ll  he  ruined  here.  I shall  enter  them 
on  my  hooks  as  closed  out  by  fire!"  We  all 
stared  at  him,  when  he  commenced  talking  to 
us,  supposing  him  demented  by  losses  or  over- 
exertion at  the  fire,  and  want  of  sleep ; hut  the 
good  sense  of  his  remarks  was  quite  convincing; 
very  much  so  to  men  just  relieved  of  their 
wardrobes,  and  we  were  not  slow  in  returning 
thanks  and  availing  ourselves  of  the  kind  offer. 
Shortly  after,  the  entire  party  looked  as  if  they 
were  ready  for  church,  soiree  or  funeral.  For 
years  after  this  incident  it  was  a standing  remark 
with  all  of  them,  meeting  any  one  of  the  num- 
ber with  new  clothes,  to  say:  “Ah!  where  was 
the  fire?” 

It  was  considered  the  correct  thing,  among 
the  men  of  that  time,  to  help  themselves  to  a 
clean  shirt  from  the  collection  of  the  friend 
under  whose  roof  night  had  overtaken  them. 
There  was  a discrepancy,  of  course,  when  host 
and  guest  were  greatly  different  in  stature ; but 
little  things  like  that  were  not  of  any  moment 
in  those  exciting,  prosperous  days.  The  long- 
limbed  man  sometimes  had  to  coax  the  wrist- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


171 


bands  of  bis  short  friend’ s shirt,  and  the  short- 
necked individual’ s ears  were  sometimes  in 
danger  from  the  stiff-starched  collar  of  his  long- 
necked, hospitable  friend.  The  laundry  clerk 
who  did  not  mark  with  care  each  lot  of  linen, 
could  never  have  sorted  them  by  sizes;  while  it 
was  nothing  strange  for  a man  to  find  only  one 
or  two  shirts  that  would  fit  him,  out  of  his  clean 
dozen  from  the  laundry. 

Captain  Gillespie  was  the  wharfinger  at  Long 
Wharf  (a  very  short  wharf  it  was  really)  in  1850. 
Young  Eddy  was  the  assistant  wharfinger,  and 
young  O’  Brien  the  gate-clerk.  Capt.  Gillespie 
is  now  in  an  insurance  office  in  Yew  York.  Mr. 
Eddy  was  afterwards  in  Yewhall  & Gregory’s 
auction  and  commission-house,  and  subsequently 
was  Quartermaster  in  the  U.  S.  Army.  He  per- 
ished in  the  calamity  which  befel  the  steamer 
Brother  Jonathan , off  our  northern  coast.  Gen. 
Wright  and  wife,  and  Capt.  Chaddock,  of  the 
U.  S.  Revenue  Service,  were  lost  on  board  the 
same  vessel.  The  engines  which  were  on  this 
ill-fated  steamer  urged  to  destruction  the  At- 
lantic and  her  doomed  passengers  on  Long  Island 
Sound,  many  long  years  before. 

The  late  Harry  Isaacs  succeeded  Capt.  Gilles- 
pie as  wharfinger,  and  subsequently  was  pro- 


172 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


prietor  of  the  11  Identical,”  where  Hussey,  Bond 
& Hale  were  located,  previous  to  building  on 
Sansome,  near  California. 

Capt.  David  Scannell,  late  Chief  Engineer  of 
the  San  Francisco  Fire  Department,  came  to 
California  in  1850.  He  was  captain  of  a New 
York  company  in  the  war  with  Mexico,  and  was 
in  every  battle,  from  the  Bio  Grande  to  the  city 
of  Mexico,  behaving  with  the  utmost  gallantry 
in  every  engagement.  He  was  Sheriff  of  San 
Francisco  at  a time  when  all  his  surroundings 
were  of  a nature  to  prejudice  the  public  against 
him;  but  he  never,  knowingly,  touched  a dis- 
honest dollar  in  his  life.  We  were  once  of  a 
widely  different  opinion ; but  for  the  past  seven- 
teen years  have  had  constant  opportunities  to 
note  that  he  is  always  an  efficient  officer,  a punc- 
tiliously honorable  man,  ever  a peacemaker — 
full  of  charity  and  kindness.  We  are  pleased 
to  record  this  of  a man  to  whom  great  injustice 
was  done  in  the  community,  but  of  whom  one 
estimate  only  can  exist  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  really  and  truly  know  him. 

Hussey,  Bond  & Hale  were  on  Howison’ s Pier 
in  1850,  and  subsequently  on  Sansome  street, 
near  the  southwest  corner  of  California.  Mr. 
Bond  was  more  a resident  of  New  York  than 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


173 


San  Francisco.  Messrs.  Hussey  and  Hale  were 
the  resident  partners  here.  The  latter  filled 
the  office  of  City  Auditor  for  many  years,  with 
honor  to  himself,  and  satisfaction  to  his  fellow- 
citizens.  As  a business  man  and  an  accountant, 
Mr.  Henry  M.  Hale  has  had  few  equals  in  Cali- 
fornia. For  many  years  Mr.  Hale  was  the  busi- 
ness manager  of  the  San  Francisco  Sugar  Refin- 
ing Co.,  and  confidential  secretary  of  the  late 
George  Gordon. 

Mr.  James  Laidley  was  on  Commercial  street 
in  August,  1850.  He  erected  a house  there,  as 
soon  as  the  new  extension  of  the  street  was 
completed  from  Montgomery  to  Kearny.  It 
was  a frame  house,  made  and  fitted  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  brought  to  San  Francisco  on  the 
ship  Wm.  V.  Kent.  Mr.  Laidley  shipped  another 
house  from  Philadelphia  on  the  Algoma.  The 
latter  house  was  erected  on  First  street,  nearly 
opposite  Donahue’s  foundry,  and  was  called 
“The  Isthmus.”  It  was  kept  as  a lodging- 
house  by  a Mr.  Haste.  The  accommodations 
were  open  bunks,  in  rows  or  tiers,  along  each 
side  of  the  room,  and  a double  row  in  the  cen- 
tre. The  couch  draperies  were  gray  blankets  and 
pillows,  minus  the  linen  cases,  or  any  other  cases, 
for  which  luxuries  one  dollar  per  night  was  the 


174 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


charge.  Mr.  Laidley  was  the  owner,  but  not 
interested  in  the  business  of  either  of  the  houses. 
Whatever  Mr.  Laidley  does  interest  himself  in, 
is  very  effectually  carried  out,  and  a truer  friend 
or  more  liberal  man  never  came  to  California. 

J.  C.  Flood  and  W.  S.  O’Brien  were  living  on 
the  corner  of  Pacific  and  Mason  streets  in  1849- 
50,  hoarding  at  Mr.  Parker’s  house.  Whether 
they  were  “Flood  & O’Brien”  then,  as  a busi- 
ness firm  or  not,  we  cannot  say;  but  they  were 
friends,  and  have  been  no  less  so  in  all  the  years 
of  business  partnership — that  crucible-like  test 
of  character  and  friendship.  Mr.  O’Brien  we 
remember  as  dealing  in  produce,  a very  profit- 
able business  early  in  ’50.  Afterwards,  we 
think,  he  kept  the  United  States  Hotel.  Some 
years  after  this  time  we  knew  Mr.  Flood  as 
Flood  & O’  Brien,  on  Washington  street,  near 
Sansome,  and  have  always  found  him  very  like 
his  partner — an  unassuming,  amiable  man,  al- 
ways prompt,  shrewd  and  correct  in  business. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


175 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

In  the  early  days  of  San  Francisco,  men  were 
not  in  the  least  fastidious  about  their  occupa- 
tion. Young  gentlemen  of  elegant  leisure  in 
the  older  cities,  scholars  just  graduated  from 
college,  boys  just  away  from  the  counting-house 
desk,  attracted  hither  by  the  golden  stories, 
took  hold  manfully  at  rough  laborers’  work. 
There  is  to-day  a banker  on  Montgomery  street, 
who  stepped  upon  the  beach  in  San  Francisco 
with  only  half  a dollar  in  his  pocket,  in  the 
early  part  of  1849,  then  a boy  less  than  nineteen 
years  of  age.  He  had  a letter  to  a prominent 
man  in  the  city,  but  was  too  sensitive  to  pre- 
sent it.  While  standing,  thinking  what  to  do, 
he  was  accosted  by  a man,  who  said,  “ Want  to 
go  to  work  for  an  hour  or  two?”  “Yes,  sir,” 
eagerly  answered  the  boy,  following,  with  no 
more  words.  His  first  work  in  California  was 
to  assist  another  young  fellow,  who  stood  wait- 
ing, to  remove  a pile  of  lumber  to  make  way 
for  the  foundation  of  a new  store.  This  job 


176 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


lasted  a couple  of  hours,  for  which  he  received 
five  dollars.  Elated  by  his  first  endeavor  and 
its  good  remuneration,  he  walked  farther  up 
the  hill  (it  was  a gradual  rise  then  from  the 
beach  to  the  top  of  Clay  street  hill)  until  he 
reached  the  Plaza  (Portsmouth  Square),  where 
he  halted  to  observe  some  men  digging  for  the 
foundation  of  the  Parker  House. 

After  standing  a few  minutes,  he  was  hailed 
by  the  foreman:  “Want  to  work?”  “Yes,  sir.” 
“ Come  on;  here’s  a shovel  ! ” This  paid  him 
well.  The  next  job  was  a good  long  one,  light- 
ering coal,  which,  when  finished,  left  money 
enough  in  his  pocket  to  start  a fruit  and  pea-nut 
stand  on  the  Plaza,  which  paid  him  a nice  little 
sum  daily.  One  day,  a man  came  up  to  his 
stand,  called  him  by  name,  and  shook  his  hand 
cordially.  It  was  one  of  the  firm  in  whose  store 
he  had  commenced  life  after  leaving  school. 
The  new  comer,  just  landed  and  unsophisticated, 
asked,  “Wouldn’t  you  rather  be  at  work  in  the 
old  store  again?”  “Ho  thank’ e,  sir,”  said  the 
boy,  “I’m  clearing  every  day  more  than  I used 
to  receive  in  a month  in  the  old  store.” 

Another  old  resident,  who  has  houses  and 
lands  to-day,  was  standing  on  Montgomery  street, 
near  Clay,  wishing  to  begin  work  in  his  new 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


177 


home,  when  a man  came  to  the  door  of  the  store 
where  our  friend  stood,  and  said,  “Look  here, 
my  friend,  if  yon  won’t  get  mad  about  it,  I’ll 
offer  you  a dollar  to  fill  that  box  with  sand.’  ’ 
“ Thank  you,”  said  the  young  fellow,  “I’ll  fill 
it  all  day  long  on  those  terms,  and  newer  be- 
come angry  in  the  least.”  “All  right!  take  it 
right  out  there,  where  they  are  hauling  sand  for 
grading.’  ’ The  box,  about  as  large  as  an  ordi- 
nary claret  case,  was  filled,  brought  to  the  store, 
and  the  dollar  was  paid.  “Now,”  said  the  recip- 
ient, “We’ll  go  and  take  a drink  with  this  dollar, 
if  you  please.”  His  new  employer  laughingly  ac- 
quiesced, which  led  to  the  new  comer’ s employ- 
ment in  the  store  where  his  first  dollar  was 
earned,  until  the  fire  of  May  4th,  1851,  and  a 
good  connection  until  the  present  day. 

There  is  a man  now*  in  this  city  who  made 
forty  thousand  dollars  as  carrier  of  the  Alta 
California  newspaper;  and  another  who  realized 
thirty  thousand  dollars  carrying  the  Sacramento 
Union  and  San  Francisco  Evening  Bulletin.  These 
cases  are  personally  known  to  us ; and  another  of 
a washerwoman,  whose  earnings,  early  invested 
in  real  estate,  give  her  to-day  a property  worth 
$100,000.  A magnate  in  real  estate,  who  may 
be  seen  daily  on  Montgomery  street,  formerly 
12 


178 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


peddled  potatoes  along  the  same  streets  where 
now  his  own  buildings 

“ Rear  their  tall  arches  towering  to  the  sky.” 

Finding  a man  engaged  in  his  own  trade  or 
profession — the  work  for  which  he  had  been 
educated — was  a rare  thing  in  California.  Del- 
icately nurtured  men  were  doing  the  work  of 
common  laborers.  Young  students,  whose  bi- 
ceps knew  only  the  gymnasium’ s development, 
who  had  handled  nothing  heavier  than  a fencing 
foil,  or  mottled  malacca,  grew  familiar  with  the 
shovel,  pick  and  rocker.  San  Francisco  wrought 
many  anomalous  conditions  in  life.  The  whilom 
professor  of  a Maryland  College  was  a drayman 
on  Pacific  Wharf.  Graduates  of  Yale  and  Har- 
vard, however  they  construed  Horace  or  Yirgil, 
were  guilty  of  no  false  quantities  in  their  sym- 
posiac  compositions.  The  once  wealthy  money 
broker  of  State  street,  Boston,  chopped  wood 
and  tended  fires  for  a baker’ s oven. 

The  young  lawyer  who,  from  lack  of  clients, 
peddled  port-monnaies  in  Marysville,  could 
have  lost  nothing  of  his  legal  acumen  in  the 
itinerant  departure,  as  he  has  since  then  sat  as 
Associate  Judge  on  the  United  States  Supreme 
Bench.  One  of  a prominent  law  firm  in  San 
Francisco  is  no  worse  an  advocate  because  of 
his  experience  as  waiter  in  a popular  restaurant. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


179 


Nor  do  we  think  that  the  gentleman  who 
once  filled  the  office  of  County  Recorder,  with 
satisfaction  to  the  citizens  and  honor  to  him- 
self, ever  regrets  the  skill  which  he,  an  amateur 
violinist,  acquired  during  his  professional'  expe- 
rience, at  twenty  dollars  yper  diem  in  one  of  the 
temples  of  chance  on  the  Plaza,  in  the  spring 
of  ’50. 

Judge , an  able  jurist,  now  occupying 

the  bench  of  an  interior  district,  found  him- 
self in  California  in  1849,  without  money, 
clients,  chambers,  or  a brief.  Being  something 
of  a gastronomist,  he  accepted  the  post  of  chef 
in  a restaurant.  One  morning,  while  engaged 
in  preparing  the  day’ s edibles,  a stranger  looked 
m at  the  kitchen  door,  nodded,  and  wished  the 
Judge  “Good  morning!” 

“ Buenos  dias /”  said  the  Judge — everybody 
attempted  a little  Spanish  in  those  days — and 
they  were  soon  in  conversation.  Everybody 
was  social  then — good-natured  and  happy,  be- 
cause they  were  prosperous ; there’ s nothing  so 
conducive  to  good  temper  and  honesty,  as  pros- 
perity. 

“I’ve  got  a case  up  here  in  Court,”  said  the 
stranger,  “and  I don’t  know  ’zactlv  what  to  do 
about  it.”  “What  is  the  case?”  asked  the 
Judge,  interested  at  once.  “Tell  me  the  facts.’  ? 


180 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


4 ‘'Well,”  said  the  other,  “you  see  it’s  just  this 
way.  I shipped  a lot  of  goods  for  this  place, 
and  the  ship’ s arrived,  and  her  cargo  all  dis- 
charged, and  my  goods  ain’t  nowhere.”  “Rave 
you  the  papers  you  received  from  the  office 
where  you  shipped  your  goods?”  “Oh,  yes, 
every  one  of  ’em.  Here  they  are.”  The  Judge 
neglected  the  chefs  duty,  and  carefully  exam- 
ined the  documentary  evidence,  saying,  after  a 
moment’s  inspection,  “You’re  all  right,  sir;  I 
can  win  this  case  for  you.”  “Oh!  you’re  a 
lawyer,  then  ? ” “Yes;  when  does  your  case  come 
on?”  “In  an  hour  from  now.”  “Well,  now 
listen  to  me,”  said  the  Judge;  “you  go  to  the 
Court  at  that  time,  and  ask  the  Court  to  con- 
tinue the  case  until  three  o’  clock  this  afternoon, 
as  your  counsel  is  unavoidably  detained  until 
then.  Do  you  understand?”  “All  right.  I’ll 
do  it,  and  come  hack  to  you.”  In  due  time  the 
client  returned  with  a favorable  report.  At 
three  o’clock  p.  m.,  the  Judge  was  in  Court  with 
his  client,  and  won  the  case  without  delay. 
“What’s  your  fee?”  inquired  the  successful  liti- 
gant, as  they  adjourned  to  take  a drink.  “One 
hundred  dollars!”  replied  the  Judge.  The 
money  was  cheerfully  paid,  and  the  Judge  pock- 
eted his  first  fee  in  California.  “I  beg  your 
pardon,”  said  a man,  confronting  the  Judge,  as 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


181 


he  turned  from  the  bar,  after  their  congratula- 
tory imbibation,  “I  was  in  Court  just  now 
when  you  won  that  case,  and  I’ve  got  a little 
suit  in  the  same  Court.  If.  you  can  put  it 
through  in  the  style  you  did  our  friend’ s case  this 
afternoon,  you’re  just  the  lawyer  for  my  money.’  ’ 
They  sat  down  together,  and  after  hearing  the 
new  client’s  case,  the  Judge  took  it  in  charge; 
was  retained  to  be  in  Court  at  ten  o’  clock  next 
morning,  and  repairing  immediately  to  his  late 
employer,  resigned  the  position  of  chef ’,  rented 
an  office,  and  has  since  that  day  confined  him- 
self to  the  practice  or  the  administration  of  law. 

Geo. tried  his  hand  at  street  work  in 

1849,  on  Clay  street,  not  as  contractor,  but  in 
the  shovel  and  pick  interest ; but  one  day’ s 
labor  and  one  ounce  in  gold,  as  remuneration, 
was  quant,  suff.  for  George,  who  has  since  that 
day  found  more  congenial  employment  as  con- 
veyancer, notary,  broker,  etc.  We  will  tell  why 
he  came  to  leave  street-work  so  abruptly,  as  an 
illustration  of  the  quick  transitions  in  San 
Francisco  life  in  the  spring  of  ’50.  As  he  was 
digging  away,  earning  his  “ ounce,”  two  men 
met  close  by  and  commenced  conversation,  but 
could  not  fully  understand  each  other,  as  one 
spoke  nothing  but  English,  while  the  other  was 


182 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


a Frenchman,  comprehending  only  a few 
words  of  English.  G-eorge,  seeing  the  situa- 
tion, very  kindly  explained  the  Frenchman’s 
meaning.  “What  do  you  know  about  it?” 
abruptly  inquired  one  of  them — we  needn’t  say 
it  was  not  the  citizen  of  the  most  courteous  of 
nations.  “ Simply  that  I am  a French  scholar,” 
said  George.  u0h,  ho!”  answered  the  brusque 

individual.  “What  the  d 1 are  you  digging 

there  for?”  “One  ounce  a day,”  said  our  hero. 
“Then  come  out  of  it.  I want  you  to  make 
translations  for  me,  on  better  pay.’  ’ The  bar- 
gain was  made  instanter,  and  George  closed  his 
street-grading  interest  that  same  evening,  and 
commenced  work  on  translations  the  next  morn- 
ing. This  transition  led  to  a connection  and 
clientage  among  our  French  citizens,  which  our 
friend  has  retained  until  the  present  day. 

One  of  the  largest  commission  houses  in  San 
Francisco  became  bankrupt  in  a singular  way — 
what  might  be  termed  retributive  justice — the 
romance  of  commerce. 

The  firm  had  nearly  all  the  English  commis- 
sion business  in  San  Francisco,  and  among  their 
account-current  charges  always  put  “Insurance 
ten  per  cent.,”  which  was  a myth — not  the  ten 
per  cent! — that  was  solid  coin  in  the  firm’s  cof- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


183 


fers — but  tbe  “insurance”  on  shipments — they 
never  had  a dollar  insurance ! One  morning  the 
fire  swept  everything,  and  the  shippers  said, 
“Pay  us  the  insurance  on  our  lost  goods!”  and 
the  house  was  obliged  to  pay.  It  not  only 
broke  the  firm,  pecuniarily,  but  broke  their 
hearts;  they  never  rallied. 


184 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

George  Hyde,  Esq.,  the  second  Alcalde  of  San 
Francisco,  arrived  at  Monterey  on  the  U.  S.  frig- 
ate Congress , as  Commodore  Stockton’s  private 
secretary,  on  the  15th  of  July,  1846,  and  has 
been  a resident  of  this  State  ever  since  that  day. 
Judge  Hyde  is  a Philadelphian;  a gentleman  of 
studious  habits,  refined  tastes,  and  very  reticent 
manners.  Xo  man  who  has  ever  occupied  such  a 
prominent  place  in  San  Francisco  is  less  known 
by  the  public  of  to-day.  The  “Annals  of  San 
Francisco”  makes  no  honorable  mention  of  his 
name;  hut  “thereby  hangs  a tale.”  In  the 
spring  of  ’50,  Alcalde  Hyde’s  office  was  on  Clay 
street,  near  the  Plaza.  In  the  early  days  of  ’48 
and  ’49  the  Judge  resided  on  Clay  street,  near 
Dupont,  occupying  the  house  since  known  as 
the  “ Sazeraey”  and  kept  by  Mr.  Samuel  Gard- 
ner. After  that  time  the  Judge  resided  on 
Broadway,  from  whence  he  removed  to  the 
grassy  lot  near  the  junction  of  Post,  Market 
and  Montgomery  streets,  an  enclosure  of  con- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


185 


siderable  size,  half  garden,  half  lawn ; the  house, 
a large,  square,  old-fashioned  wooden  building, 
considered  quite  out  of  town  until  ’53-54. 
Barry  Hyde,  the  Judge’ s only  son,  is  Alcalde  of 
a Lower  California  ypugblo  at  the  present  time. 

Peter  Toft  arrived  in  California  on  the  U.  S. 
ship  Ohio , Commodore  Ap.  Catesby  Jones.  Toft 
shipped  as  a common  sailor,  with  a very  slight 
knowledge  of  the  English  language,  although 
a master  of  Greek,  Latin  and  several  modern 
languages.  Toft’s  deportment  and  studious 
habits  attracted  the  attention  of  Commodore 
Jones,  who  allowed  him  books  from  the  library, 
and  Toft  was  nearly  a master  of  English  on 
his  arrival  in  California.  His  experience  has 
been  varied  in  our  State:  a miner,  a painter, 
draughtsman,  writer  for  newspapers,  magazines, 
theatres,  etc.;  a traveler  and  naturalist;  ever 
industrious,  obliging  and  amiable;  by  birth  a 
Dane,  by  adoption  an  American  citizen.  Mr. 
Toft  has  been  in  London  for  the  last  two  or 
three  years,  engaged  in  painting  and  literary 
pursuits,  but  we  hope  for  his  return  to  San 
Francisco  during  this  year. 

James  Kelson  was  agent  for  the  pilots  in  ’50, 
and  was  engaged  in  lightering  ships  and  coal- 


186 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


ing  steamboats  for  Charles  Min  turn.  Mr.  Nel- 
son lived  on  board  the  storeship  Resoluta , which 
used  to  lay  off  Cunningham’s  Wharf.  Mr.  Nel- 
son was  a very  liberal,  kind  man,  and  assisted 
many  to  good  fortune.  B.  M.  Hartshorne  was 
a partner  of  Mr.  Nelson,  and  also  lived  on  board 
the  Resoluta.  For  a score  of  years  Mr.  Harts- 
horne has  endeavored  to  make  everybody  be- 
lieve that  he  is  an  unamiable,  gruff,  taciturn, 
morose  individual;  but  his  brusque  manner  has 
availed  him  nothing.  We  know  his  kind  heart 
and  his  many  charitable  deeds.  He  is  a hypo- 
crite turned  inside  out — one  of  the  best  of  men; 
ever  shunning  thanks  and  gratitude.  Mr.  Harts- 
horne was  for  many  years  president  of  the 
Cal.  Steam  Navigation  Co. 

J.  k M.  Phelan  were  wholesale  liquor-dealers 
on  Jackson  street,  north  side,  on  the  spot  where 
so  many  circus  troupes  have  shown  in  years 
gone  by.  The  store  then  occupied  by  the 
Phelan  brothers  was  a very  large  wooden  struc- 
ture, just  such  as  we  see  now-a-days  erected  to 
protect  stone -dressers  engaged  in  the  work  for 
some  public  building — a big  shed,  with  doors. 
Being  down  in  a hollow,  it  was  found  necessary, 
after  a heavy  rain,  to  lay  planks  upon  supports, 
to  enable  the  visitor  to  reach  the  store  dryshod ; 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


187 


and  inside,  similar  means  were  used  to  get  around 
among  the  stacks  of  casks  and  packages  com- 
posing the  firm’s  stock  in  trade,  which  was 
always  large  and  valuable,  the  firm  being  one 
of  the  most  successful  in  that  line  of  - busi- 
ness in  San  Francisco.  J.  Phelan  is  still  living, 
but  his  brother  died  many  years  ago. 

Bingham,  Reynolds  & Bartlett  were  on  the 
corner  of  Broadway  and  Sansome,  in  a three  or 
four  story  wooden  building,  we  forget  which;  but 
in  our  memory  the  store  was  a tall,  dusty-brown 
building.  They  did  a thriving  business  in  the 
spring  of  ’50.  Messrs.  Bingham  and  Bartlett 
are  both  dead.  Of  Mr.  Reynolds  we  do  not 
know.  Mr.  Bingham  was  for  many  years,  sub- 
sequent to  the  dissolution  of  the  firm,  in  the 
City  Clerk’s  office,  in  the  City. Hall,  which  post 
he  occupied  until  his  death.  He  was  a faithful 
officer  and  a good  man. 

Mr.  McShane,  the  manager  of  the  Occidental 
Hotel  for  the  last  few  years,  was  with  W.  T. 
Coleman  & Co.,  in  the  same  block  with  Bing- 
ham, Reynolds  & Bartlett.  Mr.  Beideman,  of 
‘‘Beideman’s  Tract,”  used  to  be  often  in  this 
neighborhood.  He  and  John  Piper  were  inter- 
ested, either  in  business  or  outside  lands,  with 


188 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Samuel  Fleishhacker,  who,  after  the  fire  of  May, 
’51,  occupied  a store  on  Pacific  street,  next  to 
the  southeast  corner  of  Pacific  and  Sansome. 


Tim.  Burnham,  formerly  purser’s  clerk  in  the 
U.  S.  Navy,  had  a butcher’ s shop  on  the  north 
side  of  Pacific  wharf,  near  the  store-ship  Arkan- 
sas. Mr.  Burnham  was  an  accomplished  ama- 
teur vocalist,  and  with  Jas.  Gamble  and  Charley 
Yeemans,  used  to  sing  in  the  choir  of  the  Bev. 
Albert  Williams’  church.  They  made  no  pre- 
tensions as  vocalists,  but  their  voices  harmo- 
nized perfectly,  and,  singing  so  frequently  to- 
gether, produced  the  most  charming  effect.  Mr. 
Burnham  returned  to  his  old  profession  in  the 
U.  S.  navy,  died,  and  was  buried  at  sea.  Mr. 
Yeemans  was  for  many  years  since  then  on  the 
Petaluma  steamer.  We  think  that  Mr.  Gamble 
is  in  business  in  Newark,  N.  J.  Even  the  mem- 
ory of  this  trio’s  harmony  is  delightful.  Chance 
brings  together  such  voices — three  of  the  great- 
est singers  in  the  world  might  as  vainly  essay 
such  harmony,  as  an  ordinary  voice  to  sing  like 
the  divine  Parepa.  The  “Amphion  Quartette” 
of  to-day  are  the  best  harmonized  male  voices 
in  the  city,  since  Burnham,  Gamble  and  Yeemans 
sang  together. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


189 


0.  Livermore  was  a rosy-cheeked  boy,  in  the 
store  of  Wm.  T.  Coleman  & Co.,  twenty-two  or 
twenty-three  years  ago.  Ready,  willing,  quick 
and  good-natured,  he  became  a favorite  with  his 
employers,  and  the  up-river  merchants  trading 
with  them,  who  were  not  few  in  those  days. 
He  rose  to  a position  of  trust  and  importance. 
For  many  years  after  leaving  W.  T.  C.  & Co’ s 
house,  he  was  in  the  employ  of  Pioche,  Bay- 
erque  & Co.,  in  a very  confidential  position. 
His  strict  business  integrity  has  placed  him  in 
charge  of  valuable  estates,  seldom  entrusted  to 
so  young  an  agent.  We  sincerely  hope  that 
twenty-three  years  hence  may  find  him  as  hale 
and  useful  as  to-day. 

In  the  same  block  with  W.  T.  Coleman  & Co’ s 
store,  nearer  to  Pacific  street,  on  the  west  side 
of  Sansome,  was  the  store  of  DeWitt  & Har- 
rison, one  of  the  oldest  firms  in  San  Francisco 
established  prior  to  the  gold  discovery.  Alfred 
DeWitt  and  Henry  A.  Harrison  were  the  mem- 
bers of  the  firm  at  that  time.  Since  then  the 
house  has  conducted  business  under  the  firm 
name  of  DeWitt,  Kittle  & Co.,  and  now  as  Kittle 
& Co. 

Mr.  Kittle  was  a clerk  for  DeWitt  & Harrison 
in  1850.  W.  T.  Hoffman  and  young  Twiggs — 
we  forget  his  given  name,  he  was  always  called 


190 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


General  Twiggs — were  clerks  in  the  same  house. 
Case,  Heiser  & Co.  and  Florence  Mahoney  were 
in  business  in  this  same  block.  All  of  them 
are  long  since  dead,  and  nothing  but  good 
is  remembered  of  them.  Ripley  & McCullough 
were  on  the  Pacific  street  corner  of  the  same 
block,  and  were  agents  for  the  sale  of  the 
famous  McCullough  Shot.  Mr.  Ripley  was  killed 
by  the  explosion  on  board  the  Jenny  Lind ; and 
his  wife  and  little  daughter,  who  had  just 
arrived  in  California,  perished  with  him.  Mr. 
McCullough  has  since  been  a banker  in  Virginia 
City,  Nevada,  for  many  years.  Wm.  M.  Tileston 
had  a portion  of  Ripley  & McCullough’ s store, 
in  May,  1851.  Mr.  Tileston  was  a brother  of 
Tileston,  of  the  firm  of  Spofford  & Tileston, 
New  York  City. 

Henry  Mellen  was  a boy  in  W.  T.  Coleman  & 
Co’ s store  on  Sansome  street,  and  grew  to  man- 
hood in  their  employ,  serving  them  long  and 
faithfully.  He  left  the  house  to  join  the  army, 
where  he  served  his  country  with  the  same 
fidelity  which  distinguished  his  mercantile 
career.  He  is  now  a retired  officer,  having  lost 
both  of  his  feet  in  the  service  of  his  country. 

Dore  & Ross  were  on  Sansome  street,  next  to 
the  southeast  corner  of  Pacific,  in  May,  ’51,  as 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


191 


importers  and  dealers  in  brandies  and  wines. 
Mr.  Ross  died  many  years  since.  He  was  a kind, 
honest,  noble-hearted  Irishman.  Maurice  Hore, 
of  the  old  firm,  is  now  the  most  prominent  real- 
estate  operator  in  San  Francisco.  Barry  & Pat- 
ten were  on  the  southeast  corner  of  Sansome 
and  Pacific. 

The  conflagration  of  Sunday  morning,  June 
22d,  1851,  was  stopped  at  this  corner  by  nailing 
blankets  on  the  front  of  the  building,  and  keep- 
ing them  saturated  with  water.  Hewitt  & Har- 
rison’s store,  on  the  west  side  of  Sansome, 
north  of  Pacific,  was  saved  by  blankets,  on 
which  wTas  poured  80,000  gallons  of  vinegar. 

A little  way  around  the  corner  of  Sansome, 
on  Broadway,  towards  Battery  street,  was  the 
grocery  of  Wm.  H.  Towne.  We  have  never  seen 
or  heard  of  him  since  the  summer  of  '50,  hav- 
ing no  occasion  to  be  in  that  vicinity,  subse- 
quent to  one  day  in  June,  when  we  were  in  his 
store  awhile.  But  we  remember  him  as  being 
so  very  unlike  the  majority  of  bustling,  excited, 
noisy  and  abrupt  storekeepers  of  that  strange, 
golden  time — a pale,  quiet  man,  with  a soft 
voice,  and  a smile  sweet  as  a woman’ s ; a man 
suggesting  the  painter,  the  poet,  the  musician ; 
with  thoughts  like  Schubert’ s — anything  but  a 
grocer.  We  remember  the  peculiarity  of  his 


192 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


complexion;  golden-red  hair,  singularly  black 
eyes,  and  a delicate,  pale  face.  We  did  not  oc- 
cupy ten  minutes  in  our  business  conversation, 
and  have  never  met  since  that  day  in  June, 
twenty-three  years  ago ; but  his  face  is  retained 
in  our  memory,  curiously  vivid,  and  oftentimes 
returning  through  all  these  years — an  unac- 
countable mnemonic  vagary. 

Towards  noon,  on  the  day  of  the  fire,  after 
the  flames  were  well  subdued,  a sailor  lad  from 
a French  ship  in  the  harbor  was  going  up  the 
hill  on  Pacific  street,  half  way  between  Sansome 
and  Montgomery,  looking  at  the  destruction  on 
either  side,  when  the  idea  occurred  to  him  to 
light  his  pipe.  Stooping  down,  he  was  endeav- 
oring to  scoop  up  a little  burning  coal  with 
the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  when  some  one  of  a 
crowd,  passing  at  the  moment,  cried  “Incen- 
diary! incendiary!”  With  one  impulse  the 
men  rushed  at  him,  knocked  him  down,  and 
almost  instantly  kicked  the  poor,  innocent  lad 
to  death,  and  walked  away,  leaving  the  lifeless 
body  lying  in  the  street,  mutilated  past  recog- 
nition. A moment  before  he  had  passed  up 
the  wharf  in  the  health  and  hope  of  youth,  his 
sunburnt  cheek,  bright  eye  and  waving  hair 
giving  full  promise  of  longevity.  Walking  on 
with  childish  curiosity — his  first  footsteps  in  a 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO.  193 

strange  land  — such  a little  way,  ending  in 
dreadful  death. 

The  men  who  committed  the  terrible  deed 
passed  on,  perhaps  not  realizing  he  was  dead — 
not  caring.  They  thought  him  an  incendiary, 
worthy  of  death,  and  acted  out  the  exaspera- 
tion which  filled  the  hearts  of  men  suffering 
from  repeated  conflagrations. 

No  inquiry  was  made,  for  it  was  useless,  and 
the  tragic  incident,  with  its  victim,  was  soon 
forgotten ; but  it  was  a sickening  illustration  of 
the  fact  that  chance  is  sometimes  so  dreadfully 
potent. 


13 


194 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  clerks  of  a banking-house  on  Montgom- 
ery street,  in  the  days  when  pans  of  gold-dust 
were  standing  on  every  counter  in  the  business 
houses,  had  been  greatly  troubled  with  the  gold- 
dust  account.  It  would  not  balance — varying 
from  thirty  to  sixty  dollars  every  day.  Every 
care  was  taken  with  it,  but  to  no  avail.  Ben 
Smith,  who  had  puzzled  in  vain  over  the  books, 
concluded  to  look  outside  of  them  for  a solu- 
tion. For  three  successive  days  he  weighed  the 
dust  with  his  own  hands,  placed  it  in  the  accus- 
tomed spot,  and  sat  down  in  a hiding-place  to 
watch.  Every  morning,  soon  after  the  trap 
was  laid,  a highly  respectable  man,  a partic- 
ular friend  of  the  head  of  the  house,  came 
in,  as  usual,  stood  about  awhile,  passed  the 
usual  greetings,  sauntered  up  to  the  pan,  as 
was  his  habit  for  months,  carefully  examined  the 
contents,  rubbed  it  in  his  hands,  dropped  it  out 
into  the  pan  with  a flourish,  slapped  his  hands 
together,  and  walked  to  the  door,  stood  for  a 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


195 


moment,  and  then  passed  out.  Soon  as  he  had 
gone,  Ben  reweighed  the  dust,  and  found  it 
several  ounces  short.  This  programme  was  re- 
peated by  both  actors  in  the  little  comedy  for 
three  successive  days.  Perfectly  satisfied,  the 
clerk  communicated  with  the  banker.  “Oh, 
there  must  be  some  mistake — some  misappre- 
hension— or  perhaps  a joke  on  one  of  his  old 
friends,’ ’ was  the  banker’ s exclamation.  “The 
joke  is  a queer  one  to  carry  on  so  long,”  said 
Benjamin,  proposing  that  the  head  of  the  house 
should  take  the  “look-out’s”  chair,  and  watch 
the  game  himself.  Reluctantly,  he  consented 
to  spy  upon  his  friend,  and  was  convinced  after 
watching  two  or  three  days,  and  seeing  the  gold- 
dust  weighed  immediately  after  his  old  friend’s 
manipulation  and  departure.  After  this,  he 
was  forced  to  admit,  much  to  every  employee’ s 
relief,  that  the  mystery  was  solved.  The  de- 
ficit for  all  the  past  months  was  promptly  paid 
by  the  gentlemanly  kleptomaniac,  whose  curi- 
osity upon  the  subject  of  oro  en  polvo , as  far  as 
that  particular  bank  wms  concerned,  ceased  from 
that  moment. 

Leonard  Bowell,  assistant  superintendent  of 
Wells,  Fargo  & Go’s  Express  Department  in  San 
Francisco,  arrived  in  San  Francisco  on  the  first 


196 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


of  September,  1849,  on  the  barque  Drummond. 
Mr.  Rowell,  with  Will  Gay,  a fellow  passenger, 
landed  at  the  corner  of  Central  Wharf  (now 
Commercial  street)  and  Leidesdorff  street,  in- 
quiring of  the  first  person  they  met  for  the  store 
of  Lovering  & Gay,  Mr.  Gay  of  that  firm  being 
a brother  of  Mr.  Rowell’s  fellow- passenger. 
They  soon  found  the  store,  which  was  on  Mont- 
gomery street,  just  north  of  Central  Wharf,  and 
before  they  had  been  ten  minutes  in  conversa- 
tion, Mr.  G.  H.  Howard  came  in  and  remarked 
to  Mr.  Charles  Gay,  that  he  wished  a clerk  to 
take  account  of  the  lumber  about  to  be  dis- 
charged from  the  brig  Belfast , then  lying  in  the 
stream.  Mr.  Gay  turned  to  Mr.  Rowell,  and 
asked  if  he  cared  for  the  opportunity,  when  it 
was  accepted  at  once  most  cheerfully,  and  Mr. 
Rowell  commenced  his  business  career  in  Cali- 
fornia within  a half  hour  after  his  arrival,  has 
continued  it  up  to  the  present  time,  and  is  still 
employed.  After  the  brig  Belfast  operation, 
at  wages  which  nearly  took  his  breath  away, 
and  board  thrown  in  on  the  brig,  tambien , he 
found  employment  of  various  kinds  until  he 
entered  the  office  of  Gregory’s  Express  Co., 
then  Adams  & Co’s  Express;  then  in  the  office 
of  the  company  where  he  now  is,  and  where  he 
has  so  long  and  competently  discharged  his 
various  official  duties. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


197 


The  postage  box  in & Co’ s express- 

office  was  never  balanced.  It  couldn’ t be  done. 
No  one  ever  attempted  it,  because  no  one  knew 
how  to  do  it.  It  was  the  custom  for  clerk, 
messenger  or  driver,  who  wished  to  lunch,  or 
“ wet  his  whistle,”  to  dip  in  the  postage  box. 
There  was  nothing  secret  or  sly  about  it;  it  was 
customary,  and  no  one  thought  it  anything  out 
of  the  ordinary  course,  and  we  merely  mention 
it  to  illustrate  the  liberality  and  looseness  of 
those  days.  In  the  Sacramento  office  of  the 
company  the  same  custom  prevailed. 

One  morning  Charley  King,  the  well  known 

actor,  came  in  and  asked  for  Billy  L , one 

of  the  clerks  in  the  office,  noted  for  his  exten- 
sive wardrobe,  and  an  ambition  to  rival  Dick 
Stanly  in  fashionable  attire.  u Where  is  Billy?” 
inquired  King.  “He  is  out  just  at  this  mo- 
ment— anything  that  we  can  do  for  you?”  re- 
plied one  of  the  accommodating  clerks — and, 
by  the  way,  the  clerks  in  the  express  and  bank- 
ing houses  were  accommodating  in  those  days. 

“I  want  to  pay  Billy  L ten  dollars  which  I 

borrowed  from  him  last  night,”  said  King,  tak- 
ing an  eagle  from  his  pocket,  and  standing  with 
it  between  his  fingers,  as  if  he  wished  some  one 

to  say  they  would  give  it  to  his  friend  L . 

“I  think  he’ll  be  in  if  you’ll  wait  a moment,” 


198 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


said  somebody.  King  seemed  in  haste,  when 
“ Blaize,”  who  was  behind  the  counter,  said, 
with  that  irresistible  humor  of  tone,  peculiarly 
his  own:  “ Oh,  put  it  in  the  ‘postage-box,’ 
Charley!  He’ll  find  it  there!” 

The  express  companies  numbered  six  in  early 
days.  Adams  & Co’s  express  to  “ The  United 
States”  advertised  to  forward  gold-dust  and 
packages  by  every  steamer.  Their  office  was 
on  Montgomery  street,  between  California  and 
Sacramento. 

Berford  & Co’s  express,  on  Clay  street — 
Plaza — advertised  to  forward  packages  to  San 
Jos6  every  day,  Sunday  excepted. 

Gregory’s  express — office  on  Jackson  street 
wharf — advertised  to  forward  gold-dust  and 
packages  to  all  parts  of  the  world  by  every 
steamer;  also  to  Sacramento  and  the  northern 
mines  daily. 

Haven  & Co’s  express — office  on  Montgomery 
street,  where  the  London  and  Liverpool  and 
Globe  Insurance  Co’s  office  since  stood — also 
advertised  to  do  the  same. 

Hawley  & Co’s  express  office  was  on  Mont- 
gomery, between  Sacramento  and  California. 
They  carried  only  to  the  interior  California 
towns. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


199 


Todd  & Co’s  express,  in  the  same  block,  car- 
ried to  Stockton  and  the  southern  mines  only. 

The  business  of & Co’s  express  office 

was  so  great — its  ramifications  so  extended — 
that  its  president  and  directors  were  desirous 
to  know  its  profits,  its  expenses  and  condition. 
Its  chief  and  founder  came  out  to  ascertain. 
On  the  California  steamer  from  New  York,  he 
was  the  recipient  of  such  assiduous  and  obse- 
quious attention  as  might  be  offered  to  the 
President  of  the  United  States  upon  his  travels. 
On  the  Panama  railroad  and  on  the  Pacific 
steamers  it  was  the  same — one  continued  ova- 
tion until  he  reached  the  wharf  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. Here  the  reception  of  the  company’s 
agents  in  California  was  so  affectionate  and 
overwhelming,  that  the  worthy  president,  mod- 
est by  nature,  was  helpless  to  resist  the  thought 
that  he  was  at  the  head  of  a mighty  power  in 
the  land.  A gay  barouche,  drawn  by  four  high- 
stepping  steeds,  awaited  him,  and,  like  a great 
conqueror  making  his  triumphal  entry,  he  rode 
to  apartments  worthy  of  a king.  The  dinner 
that  awaited  him  opened  wide  his  honest,  prac- 
tical, old  business  eyes.  The  chefs  artistic  del- 
icacies in  such  profusion,  the  many  and  choice 
wines,  the  table  equipage,  and  the  attendants, 


200 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


bewildered  the  unassuming  and  industrious  head 
of  the  company.  A business  warranting  such 
luxury  and  splendor  was  far  above  his  wildest 
flight  of  fancy. 

One  or  two  gentle  expressions  of  surprise  at 
the  surroundings  were  received  with  the  look 
of  men  not  quite  comprehending,  or,  perhaps, 
rather  surprised  at  their  honored  guest’ s remark 
upon  an  every-day  matter,  but  too  well  bred  to 
notice  it.  After  an  elaborate  dessert,  the  guest 
hinted  his  wish  to  retire  early,  that  he  might 
be  prepared  for  business  in  the  morning,  and 
was  escorted  to  rest  by  his  solicitous  and  hos- 
pitable hosts. 

Early  the  next  morning — long  before  the 
agents  or  clerks  came  to  their  posts — the  worthy 
president,  neat,  smooth-shaved,  and  dressed  be- 
coming a business  man,  was  pacing  impatiently 
up  and  down  the  outer  office.  When  the  San 
Francisco  managers  appeared,  they  smilingly 
said,  in  answer  to  his  proposition  that  they 
should  proceed  to  business:  “Not  to-day!  Oh, 
no,  sir ; not  to-day ! You  require  rest ; we  can’ t 
allow  you  to  fatigue  yourself  just  off  this  long, 
tedious  trip  i 

It  was  useless  to  remonstrate — to  protest  that 
the  whole  journey  had  been  one  long  rest;  that 
he  never  felt  better  in  his  life,  and  was  per- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


201 


fectly  ready  for  business;  that  his  time  was 
limited,  and  he  must  he  expeditious.  He  was 
told  in  the  most  blandly  courteous  manner,  that 
he  must  not  forget  that  he  never  could,  with 
impunity,  exert  or  fatigue  himself  in  this'  climate 
as  at  home ; that  the  statements  were  preparing, 
and  would  be  ready  in  a few  days;  but  to-day 
a party  had  been  made  up  to  visit  a certain 
place,  in  honor  of  himself,  and  they  were  about 
ready  to  start.  What  could  he  do?  Nothing 
but  acquiesce,  then,  and  he  went  with  his  en- 
tertainers; but  he  resolved  to  go  on  no  more 
pleasure  parties  until  business  was  settled.  His 
resolutions  were  of  no  avail. 

New  excursions,  wonderful  sights,  great  nat- 
ural curiosities,  must  be  visited  ; it  would  never 
do  to  return  without  having  looked  upon  these 
world-wide  wonders;  expressed  desires,  remon- 
strances, expostulations,  all  were  smiled  away; 
they  hurried  him  from  place  to  place,  in  one 
continued  whirl,  received  here  and  passed  on 
there,  with  honors  and  attentions  never  ending. 
His  methodical  life  up  to  this  time  was  so  broken 
in  upon,  his  systematic  habits  so  diverted,  that 
his  health  was  disturbed,  and,  like  a prudent 
general,  convinced  of  the  futility  of  farther 
fighting,  he  wisely  beat  a retreat.  His  propo- 
sition to  send  out  a trusty,  plodding,  old,  confi- 


202 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


dential  clerk  to  arrange  the  business  which  his 
delightful  round  of  continued  pleasure  and  ever  in- 
creasing knowledge  of  the  country's  wonderful 
resources  had  caused  him  to  neglect , was  the  only 
way  by  which  he  could  cover  his  retreat  with 
self-respect,  and  cheat  himself  into  the  belief 
that  his  crafty  agents  had  not  outwitted  him. 
Soon  as  it  was  possible,  after  his  return  to  his 
home  on  the  Atlantic  side,  there  came  out  to 
San  Francisco  a tall,  grave,  white-haired  man, 
sedate  and  venerable,  with  full  authority,  etc. 
The  agents  and  the  old,  confidential,  white- 
haired  emissary  crossed  their  swords  warily, 
fencing  and  parrying  with  utmost  caution,  until 
accident  revealed,  through  a chink  in  the  old 
man’s  armor,  his  weak  spot — Schnapps.  The 
crafty  fencer  touched  with  his  keen  rapier  the 
vulnerable  point;  off  fell  the  disguising  armor, 
and  the  jolliest  old  man  conceivable  stood  re- 
vealed. The  hospitable  hosts  gave  unremitting 
attention.  They  whirled  him  faster  than  they 
had  ever  whirled  his  worthy  chief.  The  old 
man  laughed  so  incessantly  that  he  could  not 
give  his  mind  to  dry  business  details.  He  laugh- 
ingly proposed  to  leave  for  home,  rode  to  the 
steamer,  laughing,  and  laughed  more  than  ever 
when  he  found  his  state-room  lined  with  cases 
of  his  favorite  schnapps,  and  sailed  away  still 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


203 


laughing.  The  managers  laughed — within  their 
sleeves — when  he  had  gone,  and  held  high  car- 
nival. But  soon  the  inevitable  crash  came,  and 
the  insiders,  heads  of  the  house  and  clerks, 
laughed  in  their  sleeves  immoderately;  but  the 
poor  outsiders,  save  the  bench  and  bar,  felt  like 
doing  anything  but  laughing. 


204 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Captain  Charles  L.  Wiggin  arrived  in  San 
Francisco  on  the  schooner  Uudorus , September 
14th,  1849.  The  store  subsequently  occupied 
by  C.  C.  Richmond,  on  Jackson,  near  the  cor- 
ner of  Montgomery,  was  part  of  the  freight  on 
board  the  Uudorus. 

Captain  Wiggin  first  stepped  on  shore  where 
Montgomery  now  crosses  Jackson.  Then  it  was 
a sea  beach,  the  tide  sometimes  coming  as  high 
as  the  present  northwest  corner  of  Montgomery 
and  Jackson.  Captain  W.  was  the  first  officer 
of  the  steamer  Midas , when  she  doubled  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  subsequently  was  her 
commander. 

The  Midas  was  the  first  American  steamer 
that  ever  doubled  Good  Hope  or  Cape  Horn. 
She  was  a small  propeller,  built  by  Ericsson, 
and  owned  by  R.  B.  Forbes,  in  whose  employ 
the  subject  of  our  sketch  sailed,  from  1835  to 
1849.  Captain  Wiggin  was  a boy  on  board  one 
of  Mr.  Forbes’  ships,  in  the  harbor  of  Hong 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


205 


Kong,  when  the  site  of  that  now  populous  city 
was  occupied  only  by  bamboo  huts. 

The  ship  Oxnard , Captain  Cole,  arrived  in  San 
Francisco,  November  22d,  1849,  bringing  twenty- 
five  wooden  houses,  all  numbered  in  sections, 
and  fitted  in  Boston,  for  erection  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. Charles  R.  Bond  brought  them  out  for 
Wm.  D.  M.  Howard,  who  retained  twelve  of 
them,  after  selling  twelve  to  Captain  J.  L.  Fol- 
som, and  one  to  Captain  Cole. 

Three  or  four  of  them  were  erected  on  Mis- 
sion street,  near  Third,  Messrs.  Howard,  Melius 
and  Brannan  occupying  three  of  them.  Cap- 
tain Folsom  erected  others  on  Mission,  between 
First  and  Second  streets;  on  Minna,  Natoma, 
Tehama  and  Folsom  streets.  To  Mrs.  Yan 
Winkle,  Mrs.  Cany  and  Mrs.  Wakeman,  whose 
husbands  were  all  attached  to  his  office,  Captain 
Folsom  gave  each  a cottage,  and,  we  believe, 
nearly  all  of  the  buildings  stand  to-day.  The 
house  in  which  Mr.  Howard  resided,  prior  to 
the  Oxnard's  arrival,  was  on  the  northeast  cor- 
ner of  Washington  and  Stockton  streets.  Some 
years  ago  it  was  moved  to  Bryant  street,  be- 
tween Second  and  Third,  where  it  stands  at  the 
present  writing. 

It  is  a fact  worthy  of  record,  that  none  of 


206 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


these  houses  brought  out  on  the  Oxnard  were 
ever  burned.  The  first  Orphan  Asylum  in  San 
Francisco  was  opened  in  one  of  these  houses, 
on  the  corner  of  Folsom  and  Second  streets,  on 
General  Halleck’ s land. 

The  house  was  contributed  by  Mr.  Howard. 
The  managers  of  the  Asylum  were  Mrs.  S.  It. 
Throckmorton,  Mrs.  C.  Y.  Gillespie,  and,  we 
believe,  Mrs.  Henry  Haight  and  Mrs.  H.  J.  Yan- 
dewater.  We  are  quite  certain  that  some  of 
these  ladies  have,  through  all  the  years  since 
the  little  wooden  cottage  was  given  as  a home 
to  the  fatherless,  worked  zealously  for  those 
“little  ones.”  May  the  God  of  the  widow  and 
the  fatherless  bless  them,  and  the  memory  of 
the  late  Abner  Barker,  who  left  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  to  that  noble  charity. 

Wm.  D.  M.  Howard’s  office,  at  the  time  of  the 
fire  of  June  14,  1850,  was  on  the  southeast  cor- 
ner of  Leidesdorff  and  Long  Wharf  (now  Com- 
mercial street),  and  in  the  same  building  with 
the  F.  M.  S.  S.  Co’ s office. 

There  was  a high  gate  across  the  head  of  the 
wharf,  from  the  corner  of  this  building.  Sub- 
sequent to  the  fire,  Mr.  Howard  took  the  old 
adobe  kitchen  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Co’s  house, 
roofed  it,  and  made  it  suitable  for  an  office, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


207 


until  the  erection  of  the  brick  building  so  long 
occupied  in  the  lower  story  by  Wm.  H.  Keith, 
apothecary. 

At  the  old  office,  in  the  adobe  kitchen,  and 
in  the  new  one,  and  about  its  entrance,  the  old 
pioneers  used  to  congregate.  # They  were  genial, 
hospitable  men,  with  scarcely  any  exception; 
men  whose  word  bound  them  entirely  and 
sacredly.  In  1849  a roundabout  blue  jacket 
and  black  pants  in  cool  weather;  in  warm  days, 
white  was  the  costume.  Even  into  1850,  some 
wore  the  old  California  style  of  dress.  Mr. 
Yioget  always  did,  and  we  believe  we  have  seen 
others  wearing  the  old  style  Californian  cos- 
tume as  late  as  the  summer  of  1850;  but  the 
fashions  prevailing  among  the  people  drawn  to 
San  Francisco  by  the  gold  discovery,  were 
adopted  by  all  at  last,  save  Mr.  Yioget,  whom 
we  never  saw  dressed  in  them. 

In  the  delicious  January  days  of  California, 
when  the  warm  sun  kisses  the  earth  into  new 
life  and  smiling  brightness,  and  nature  seems 
kinder  to  mankind  than  elsewhere,  we  always 
recall  just  such  a time,  when  we  saw  a group  of 
the  early  pioneers  standing  before  the  office  of 
Wm.  I).  M,  Howard,  the  kindest  and  noblest  of 
them  all.  There  was  Captain  Cooper,  Jacob  P. 
Leese,  Mr.  Yioget,  Thomas  0.  Larkin,  Henry 


208 


MEN  AND  MEMOKIES 


Teschemacher,  Alfred  Robinson,  Don  Juan  Fos- 
ter, Don  Abel  Stearns,  Dr.  Denn,  Don  Juan 
Thompson, Richardson,  Robert  A.  Par- 

ker and  several  others. 

Henry  Teschemacher  was  then,  always  has 
been,  and  is  to-day,  the  soul  of  honor,  courage 
and  modesty ; perfectly  unassuming,  proverbially 
courteous,  extremely  reticent  as  to  himself,  but 
never  to  be  moved  an  inch,  or  ignored  for  an 
instant,  when  acting  for  his  friends.  In  184-  a 
difficulty  occurred  between  Lieut.  Bonnycastle 
and  Henry  Melius.  Mr.  Melius  received  a chal- 
lenge; but  Mr.  Teschemacher  insisted  upon 
assuming  the  responsibility  of  the  affair,  upon 
the  grounds  that  Mr.  Melius,  being  just  married, 
ought  not  to  jeopard  his  life,  and  could  not  be 
so  well  spared  as  his  bachelor  friend. 

Mr.  Teschemacher  and  Lieut.  Bonnycastle 
fought  with  rifles ; the  former  escaping  unhurt, 
shooting  off  a finger  from  the  hand  of  his  an- 
tagonist. Mr.  Teschemacher  won  the  choice  of 
weapons,  and  selected  his  antagonist’s  favorite 
rifle ; otherwise  the  result  might  have  been  dif- 
ferent. Mr.  Teschemacher  never  sought  office; 
but  the  citizens  of  San  Francisco  thrice  elected 
him  to  the  office  of  Mayor  by  a most  flattering 
majority,  notwithstanding  his  earnest  efforts  to 
escape  the  honor. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


209 


William  D.  M.  Howard  was  a man  to  draw 
other  men  around  him,  not  by  self-assertion,  by 
promises,  or  studied,  conventional  courteous- 
ness, but  by  the  magnetism  of  his  genuine, 
heartfelt  cordiality.  His  fellow  men  intuitively 
recognized  his  nature,  and  liked  to  be  with  one 
of  whom  they  felt  so  sure,  in  whom  they  fully 
trusted,  without  hesitation. 

The  native  Californians  ever  found  him  a 
good  adviser  and  true  friend;  and  all  who  came 
to  him,  seeking  their  fortunes  on  these  shores, 
were  most  generously  befriended.  If  “ he  who 
giveth  to  the  poor,  lendeth  to  the  Lord,”  Mr. 
Howard  resigned  earthly  wealth  for  far  greater 
treasure  in  Heaven. 

Not  all  the  pioneers  were  men  of  honor. 
There  are  exceptions  to  prove  every  rule,  al- 
though it  seems  odd  to  find  its  application 
among  the  men  who  came  to  California  as  real 
pioneers,  before  the  excited  rush  for  gold. 
People  of  later  days  ask,  “How  is  it  that  the 
old  pioneers  were  such  exceptional  men?  Was 
it  not  the  fact  that  they  were  like  any  other 
men,  only,  being  few  in  numbers  and  living 
under  similar  circumstances,  peculiarly  peaceful 
and  contented,  the  strifes  and  contentions  of 
politics  and  litigation  were  unknown,  and  their 
undisturbed  friendship,  so  long  continued,  is 
14 


210 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


now,  in  memory,  surrounded  by  a halo,  placing 
them  apart  from  other  men?”  To  which  we 
reply,  that  undoubtedly  those  very  circum- 
stances strongly  cemented  the  ties  then  formed ; 
yet  they  were  men,  by  nature,  of  broader  minds, 
and  possessed  of  a foresight  unusual  in  most 
men,  freer  in  thought  and  habit — the  very  attri- 
butes belonging  to  pioneers,  through  which 
Nature  herself  set  them  apart  from  other  men, 
constituting  them  the  vanguard  of  the  long, 
trans-continental  march  of  emigration’s  endless 
army. 

In  1847,  J.  J.  Yioget  made  the  first  survey 
of  San  Francisco,  or  Yerba  Buena,  and  laid 
out  the  plan  for  its  streets.  Had  his  design 
been  carried  into  effect,  it  would,  as  a sanitary 
proposition,  have  been  much  better  for  the  city’s 
inhabitants.  Every  house  would  have  had  an 
equal  share  of  the  sun  upon  its  front  and  rear 
during  the  day.  Political  scheming,  that  bane 
of  republics,  changed  the  plan  to  give  one  of  its 
party  favorites  a job , causing,  in  this  particular 
instance,  injury  to  the  health  of  thousands. 
Yioget’ s wisdom  and  experience  sought  to  ob- 
viate and  prevent  this  harmful  condition  of 
things,  for  he  knew  the  value  of  the  sun’s  light 
and  heat  in  San  Francisco,  where  he  had  lived 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


211 


much  of  the  time  since  1887,  and  noted  the 
isothermal  needs.  M.  Yioget  was  Swiss,  of 
French  descent,  like  the  great  Agassiz,  who, 
when  speaking,  always  reminds  us  of  Yioget,  so 
modest,  earnest  and  fascinating  in  conversation, 
always  imparting  some  new  and  useful  knowl- 
edge ; eager  as  a child  to  gain  a scrap  of 
information;  and,  withal,  a wonderful  way  of 
drawing  from  you,  by  no  effort  of  your  own, 
better  things  than  you  imagined  yourself  capa- 
ble of  saying — the  most  intoxicating  of  all  flat- 
teries. Yioget  resided  on  Kearny  street,  west 
side,  adjoining  the  old  City  Hotel,  which  formed 
the  southwest  corner  of  Clay  and  Kearny.  In 
stature  he  was  about  five  feet  eight  and  a half 
inches,  and  possessed  of  a good  average  avoirdu- 
pois. He  carried  his  head  a little  inclined,  like 
one  listening;  his  hair  was  short,  plentiful  and 
very  gray;  he  wore  a full,  gray  “old  guard” 
moustache  ; and  up  to  the  last  day  that  we  saw 
him,  he  wore  the  old  Californian  costume — the 
short  blue  jacket  and  black  pants.  Few, 
to-day,  save  the  old  residents,  seem  to  remem- 
ber him,  so  reticent  was  his  nature.  We 
do  not  even  find  his  name  in  Kimball’s  San 
Francisco  Directory  of  1850.  But  we  should 
be  happy  to  think  that  these  pages  might  be 
the  means  of  reminding  the  victims  of  malarious 


212 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


ills,  of  rheumatism,  and  chills  and  fever,  that 
the  subject  of  this  sketch  labored  for  their  good 
a quarter  of  a century  ago,  though  thwarted  by 
that  hydra — politics. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


213 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

There  was  a real,  old  English  strolling  pan- 
pipe player  in  San  Francisco  during  the  days  of 
which  we  write — a fellow  who  reminded  us  of 
the  summer  afternoon  when  Little  Xell  and  the 
old  man  came  upon  Short  and  Codlin,  sitting 
among  the  grave-stones  of  the  old  church-yard, 
repairing  their  fantoccini.  Our  pioneer  pan- 
piper (we  believe  he  was  eligible  to  the  associa- 
tion), played  upon  the  cymbals,  triangle,  accor- 
deon  and  bass-drum — a genuine  itinerant  of  the 
“Merrie  Englande”  fair  and  race  grounds.  He 
came  from  Sydney  to  this  city,  and  was  a char- 
acter— a study.  He  wore  the  narrow-brimmed, 
very  high-crowned  hat,  found  only  upon  the 
heads  of  H.  B.  M.  subjects — just  the  pattern  in 
everything,  save  color,  of  the  pioneer  candy 
man’ s (also  eligible)  hat,  on  Montgomery  street, 
— his  hat  being  a rusty  black,  the  pan-piper’s  a 
light  brown.  His  shirt-collar  and  cravat  were 
very  elaborate,  and  the  fashion  of  his  coat  and 
nether  garments  dignified  and  recondite.  The 


214 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


expression  of  his  face,  as  he  jerked  his  head 
right  and  left,  in  the  execution  of  an  allegro  vi- 
vace movement,  with  octave  intervals,  was  truly 
indescribable.  As  his  mouth  traveled  along  the 
edge  of  the  pipes,  the  action  of  the  levator  labii 
projprius  and  risible  muscles,  gave  a hearty,  en- 
joyable grin  along  the  facial  angle,  contrasting 
ludicrously  with  the  lachrymose  appearance  of 
his  eyes,  from  the  elevation  of  the  inner  extrem- 
ity of  the  eyebrows,  the  sensitive  movement  of 
the  occipito  frontalis , and  the  despondent  droop 
of  the  eyelid,  like  one  who  had  blown  upon 
dying  embers  until  the  dizzy  brain  ached  with 
the  exertion.  His  face  recalled  Pliny’s  words: 

“ Frons  hominis  tristitiae,  hilaritatis,  dementias,  severitatis,  index 
est.” 

One  could  not  repress  a smile,  on  giving  him 
the  most  casual  glance-  but  to  stop  one’s  ears, 
and  watch  his  appearance  for  a moment,  taking 
in  its  mingled  absurdity  and  serious  work-a-day 
earnestness,  through  the  single  sense  of  sight, 
was  enough  to  convulse  with  laughter  the  most 
lugubrious  of  men.  This  disciple  of  the  shep- 
herd’s deity  worked  hard  upon  his  pipes  and 
drum,  earning  well  the  harvest  that  he  gath- 
ered. Some  time  in  the  early  part  of  ’ 52  he 
disappeared — we  suppose  went  to  Australia,  or 
some  secluded  village  in  old  England,  where  he 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


215 


dreams  away  the  evening  of  his  life,  discarding 
pipe  of  Pan  for  pipe  nicotian.  We  can  never 
forget  him,  nor  the  amusement  he  afforded  us, 
being  at  that  time  fresh  from  the  study  of  u The 
Anatomy  and  Philosophy  of  Expression,  a-s  con- 
nected with  the  fine  arts,”  by  Sir  Charles  Bell, 
K.  H. 

One  of  our  San  Francisco  aristocracy  was  for- 
merly a crockery  and  earthenware  dealer,  on  the 
Atlantic  side  of  the  continent,  but  did  not  per- 
sue  his  old  trade  in  California,  making  more 
money  in  various  ways,  from  hotel  keeping  to 
real  estate  speculating,  etc.  After  accumu- 
lating a fortune,  he,  of  course,  followed  the  old, 
stereotyped  path — went  to  some  other  country 
to  spend  it.  Meeting  a congenial  spirit  in  Eu- 
rope, they  traveled  the  grand  tour  together,  each 
playing  the  rentier , the  grand  jproprietaire , en- 
tirely ignoring  any  knowledge  of  business,  of 
any  nature  whatsoever.  They  were  together  in 
Paris,  on  the  Bhine,  in  Dresden,  Berlin,  Vienna, 
Venice,  Florence,  Borne,  and  finally  came  to 
Herculaneum  and  Pompeii,  where  they  were  lost 
in  the  wonders  of  the  long  buried  past. 

One  day,  as  they  were  examining  some  curi- 
ous specimens  of  ancient  pottery — bowls,  cups, 
dishes  and  recondite  platters,  in  one  of  the  un- 


216 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


earthed  palaces  of  Pompeii,  our  California  ren- 
tier became  genuinely  interested  in  a singularly 
delicate  thin  bowl  of  very  hard,  bell-like  mate- 
rial, that  vibrated  with  a gentle  ring  in  handling. 
Turning  it  carefully  over,  he  scrutinized  it  in- 
wardly, outwardly  and  at  its  edge;  held  it  up 
to  the  light,  with  every  look  and  movement  de- 
noting the  expert,  but  all  unconscious  of  the 
watchful  eyes  of  his  companion.  Suddenly, 
after  a long  inspection,  he  tossed  the  bowl 
with  his  right  hand,  caught  it  on  the  extended 
finger-tips  of  his  left,  held  it  in  silent  poise, 
like  a prestidigitateur,  giving  it  a quick  tap 
with  the  middle  finger  knuckle  of  the  other 
hand.  At  the  clear  bell-like  ring,  his  face 
glowed  with  the  undisguised  satisfaction  of  an 
approving  virtuoso  in  Chinaware  and  crockery. 
“ No!  you  don’t  say  so?  I used  to  be  in  that 
line  too.”  “Eh,  what  did  you  say?”  asked  the 
California  rentier , suddenly  roused  from  his  pre- 
occupation, and  turning  a dismayed  face  to  his 
companion.  “What  line?  Don’t  understand 
you!”  “Oh,  bosh!”  said  the  other,  “I  have 
been  too  many  years  in  the  business  not  to  know 
you  by  the  way  you  handled  that  bowl  just 
now.  We’  11  understand  each  other  all  the  better 
now.”  “I  don’t  understand  you  at  all,  sir,” 
said  the  silly  Californian,  whose  vanity  was  so 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


217 


wounded  that  he  actually  turned  his  back  upon 
his  good-natured  companion,  and  never  resumed 
the  acquaintance. 

There  was  a Mr.  Baker — we  believe  his'  name 
was  William  Baker — who,  we  think,  was  one  of 
the  firm  of  S.  H.  Williams  & Co.,  or  a clerk  in 
that  house  in  the  spring  of  ’50.  We  remember 
Mr.  Baker  as  being  the  most  carefully  and  neatly 
dressed  man  in  San  Francisco  at  that  time ; not 
that  there  were  not  other  men  as  well  dressed 
in  material,  as  neat  and  punctiliously  clean,  but 
people,  as  a general  thing  in  those  days,  wore 
gray  or  brown,  or  blue,  or  drab,  and  spotted  or 
striped  shirts  of  fancy  colors.  This  Mr.  Baker 
always  wore  a full  suit  of  black,  and  spotless 
linen;  his  hat,  only,  was  an  approach  to  color, 
being  a soft,  broad-brimmed,  low,  round- 
crowned  beaver,  of  a brownish,  raw  umber 
shade.  We  used  to  marvel  at  Mr.  Baker’s  in- 
variably neat,  spotless  attire,  and  wonder  how 
he  preserved  his  wardrobe,  amid  the  never- 
ceasing  clouds  of  dust  that  were  ever  floating 
in  the  air  through  our  unpaved  streets.  He 
never  seemed  in  the  least  ruffled  or  annoyed  by 
the  trampling  mule  teams  and  their  following 
clouds.  He  walked  along  as  if  on  the  clean 
swept  walks  of  Philadelphia,  Boston,  or  the 


218 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Boulevards  of  Paris,  his  faultless  shirt  and  col- 
lar, his  ample  wristbands,  his  Poole-like  coat, 
vest  and  pants,  his  patent-leather  hoots,  facing 
the  flying,  powdery  nuisance  more  bravely  than 
any  flannel  shirt  and  duck  trousers  in  the  whole 
town.  His  utter  obliviousness  to  dust,  and  his 
unvarying  suit  of  new  black  broadcloth,  was 
ever  a mystery  to  us,  and  we  believed  in  the 
spring  of  ’ 50,  and  still  believe,  that  he  had  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  new  black  suits,  with 
linen  and  patent-leathers  to  match. 

Malachi  Fallon  was  City  Marshal  in  the  spring 
of  ’50.  He  was  a good  officer  and  an  honest 
man.  In  ’51  Mr.  Fallon  opened  the  Hip  Van 
Winkle  House,  on  the  corner  of  Pacific  Wharf 
and  Battery  street.  Subsequently  he  purchased 
of  Messrs.  E.  V.  Joice  and  Daniel  Lockwood  the 
Knickerbocker  House,  on  the  corner  of  Long 
Wharf  and  Battery  street.  Mr.  Fallon  is  at  the 
present  time  living  in  Oakland,  and  is  to  all  ap- 
pearance in  health  and  vigor.  We  hope  he 
may  live  and  enjoy  another  score  of  years. 
When  Wells,  Fargo  & Co.  opened  in  ’52  at 
114  Montgomery  street,  next  door  south  of 
Barry  & Patten’s,  Mr.  Joseph  Fallon  (brother  of 
Malachi),  John  Bell  and  Mr.  Birdsall  were  the 
only  employees  of  that  express  company.  The 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


219 


office  is  still  next  door  to  Barry  & Patten’s,  but 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  John  Bell 
and  Birdsall  are  still  in  the  office,  and  Mr.  Fal- 
lon, we  believe,  is  in  Honolulu. 

Mr.  Daniel  Lockwood  died  in  Newark,  KT.  J., 
several  years  since. 

Mr.  Joice,  is  and  has  been  for  many  years,  a 
notary,  and  bids  fair  to  live  a half  century 
longer,  if  one  may  judge  by  his  step  and  man- 
ner on  California  street;  and  better  still,  by 
the  ground  he  will  get  over,  and  the  steep  hill- 
sides he  can  climb,  in  a day’ s shooting,  coming 
in  full  of  spirit  and  fun,  when  some  of  the  boys 
are  lame  and  disagreeably  quiet.  We  hope  he 
may  bag  his  game  for  many  years  to  come,  for 
we  do  certainly  like  good-natured  men. 

Swift  & Brother,  James  and  S.  C.  Swift,  were 
general  merchants  on  Sacramento  street,  between 
Montgomery  and  Kearny,  in  the  spring  of  ’50. 
John  B.  Bourne,  a brother-in-law  of  one  of 
the  firm,  was  employed  with  them.  The  fire  of 
June  14th,  ’50,  burned  them  out.  Mr.  Bourne 
went  on  a voyage  of  speculation  to  Callao  in 
the  following  October,  returned  in  the  spring 
of  ’51,  and  rented  one  of  a block  of  stores  on 
Long  Wharf,  adjoining  the  storeship  Apollo. 
Mr.  Bourne  hired  this  store  of  Mr.  Chase,  a 
carpenter,  who  built  and  owned  the  block. 


220 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Saturday  evening  Mr.  Chase  called  in  for  his 
rent — rents  were  payable  in  advance — which 
Mr.  Bourne  paid — $1400  per  month.  This  was 
about  sunset,  and  before  midnight  his  store,  as 
well  as  his  rent  money,  had  disappeared.  Mr. 
Bourne  seems  just  as  well  able  to-day  to  bear 
misfortune  as  he  was  twenty  years  ago. 

John  A.  McGrlynn  was  City  Recorder,  and  his 
office  was  in  the  City  Hall  in  ’50.  Dan.  C. 
McGlynn  was  a dealer  in  paints  and  oils  on 
Sacramento  street,  near  Montgomery.  Their 
homes  and  their  interests  have  been  with  us 
ever  since  that  time,  and  they  are  worthy  citi- 
zens. 

Bailey  & Hooper  were  merchants  on  the  cor- 
ner of  Montgomery  and  Pacific  in  1850.  We 
think  Mr.  Bailey  was  afterwards  of  the  firm  of 
Edwards,  Bailey  & Co.  Mr.  B.  was  an  unselfish, 
benevolent  man,  and  lost  his  life  by  an  act  of 
courtesy  to  a lady,  who  was  one  of  a party  com- 
ing down  the  Sacramento  river  to  San  Francisco. 
When  the  steamer  came  to  the  bay,  the  sudden 
change  of  atmosphere  caused  the  lady  to  ex- 
press her  fear  of  taking  cold,  if  she  remained  on 
deck.  Mr.  Bailey  immediately  removed  his 
cloak  and  wrapped  it  about  the  form  of  his  fair 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


221 


companion,  but  this  act  of  gallantry  cost  him 
his  life,  as  he  then  contracted  a cold  from  which 
he  never  recovered. 

John  H.  Saunders  arrived  in  San  Francisco 
on  the  twentieth  of  June,  1850,  on  the  steamer 
Tennessee.  S.  It.  Throckmorton,  Lieut.  Beale 
(subsequently  Surveyor-General  of  California), 
Messrs.  Berri  and  May  (of  Davidson  k Co.), 
James  L.  King,  Leonard  Skinner,  Chetwood  k 
Edwards,  and  many  others  well  known,  were  on 
the  same  steamer.  Mr.  Saunders  has  since  been 
City  Attorney  for  San  Francisco,  and  State  Sen- 
ator from  San  Francisco.  He  is  a virtuoso,  a 
skillful  amateur  musician,  and  a generous,  honor- 
able man. 

Thomas  Gr.  Cary  was  with  Macondray  k Co. 
in  1850,  and  subsequently  was  one  of  the  firm. 
Mr.  Cary  was  a merchant,  a scholar,  a student, 
an  ichthyologist;  an  accomplished  master  in 
self-defense,  a gentleman,  and  a rare  good  fellow. 
He  left  California  about  ten  years  since,  and 
has  been  very  busily  occupied  nearly  all  that 
time  in  the  museum  of  zoology  at  Harvard  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  Mass. 

I.  Friedlander  was  a busy  man  in  San  Fran- 
cisco in  1850,  and  has  been  ever  since.  He  is 
a Field  Marshal  in  California’s  army  of  specu- 
lators— marshals  his  forces,  and  moves  with 


222 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


mighty  results.  He  has  brains  and  sagacit}^ 
generosity,  honor  and  gratitude,  and  never  for- 
gets a favor  from  high  or  low;  but  any  unfair- 
ness toward  Mr.  Friedlander  has  not  been  found 
remunerative. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


223 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  road  or  track  to  the  Presidio,  twenty 
years  ago,  was  not  as  comfortable  for  a drive  as 
at  the  present  day.  Xo  level  way  for  vehicles 
along  the  hard,  steep-sloping  hill,  corrugated 
with  rain-washed  ruts  and  ugly  gulleys.  It  was 
a most  uninviting  ride  for  those  in  the  saddle ; 
but  to  drive  in  a vehicle  across  that  old  Pre- 
sidio road,  was  neither  safe  nor  pleasant.  There 
were  many  ways  of  scaling  the  hill — we  mean 
to  say  pathways  to  the  hill — but  the  most  trav- 
eled was  the  one  off*  Powell  street,  near  Wash- 
ington Square.  The  hard  adobe  soil  in  summer 
was  like  stone,  and  in  the  rainy  season  gummy, 
sticky  and  disagreeable.  The  steep,  shelving, 
uneven  way,  making  the  carriage  perpetually 
seem  as  if  it  were  just  toppling  over,  or  sliding 
down  the  precipitous  hill,  was  very  trying  to 
the  nerves  of  those  penned  in  upon  the  back 
seat;  and  when  we  remember  that  old,  uneven, 
rutted,  gulley-worn  road,  we  wonder  how 
we  ever  had  the  courage  to  travel  it  in  any 


224 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


way,  other  than  in  the  saddle.  Like  all  prim 
itive  roads,  it  wound  up  over  the  highest, 
most  toilsome  way,  past  cattle-pens  and  corrals, 
brick-yards  and  butcher’s  shambles,  the  ground 
all  the  way  looking  as  baked  and  hard  as  slag 
or  adamant,  with  no  sign  of  vegetation,  but 
everywhere  a surface,  seemingly  blown  bare  by 
the  continuous  winds  of  summer.  After  the 
rains,  ’twas  difficult  to  believe  in  such  a change. 
The  tender  emerald  grass  and  dotting  wild 
flowers,  the  soft,  soothing  air,  winning  us  to 
forgetfulness  of  the  harsh  summer  gales,  parch- 
ing the  skin,  fretting  the  eyes,  and  spoiling  the 
hair  and  temper.  In  the  dry,  dusty  season,  it 
was  pleasant  to  come  upon  the  little  grove  of 
trees  where  Leonidas  Haskell’s  house  stood, 
and  where  he  afterwards  built  three  cottages, 
one  of  which  was  occupied  by  John  C.  Fre- 
mont. Trees  were  very  grateful  to  the  eyes  of 
San  Franciscans  in  those  days,  when  homes  and 
gardens  and  shrubbery  were  not  yet  planted, 
and  hearts  were  not  rooted  to  the  country,  en- 
twined with  the  old  associations  and  affections 
belonging  with  “home”  in  every  clime. 

When  we  had  passed  Mr.  Haskell’ s house, 
we  were  descending  the  western  slope  of  the 
hill,  and  turned  southward  a little  way;  then 
down  again  westwardly  to  the  little  lane,  past 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


225 


the  brick  yard  to  the  little  grocery,  making  the 
corner  of  the  block  where  the  French  gardeners 
cultivated  their  vegetables  for  the  city  markets. 
The  Sutter  street  railroad  uses  this  same  road 
now  for  their  Harbor  Yiew  track.  In  -those 
days,  the  road  abruptly  descended  to  a little 
hollow,  which  was  impassable  often  in  the  rainy 
season,  obliging  the  traveler  to  skirt  the  high 
bank  on  the  north  side,  at  the  edge  of  the  gar- 
den on  the  other  side,  kept  by  another  citizen 
of  La  Belle  France.  Beyond  this  little  hollow, 
was  another  very  abrupt  little  rise,  which 
brought  you  to  the  road  leading  to  the  “ La- 
guna,” or  Washerwoman’s  Bay,  where  Ansel  I. 
Easton’s  laundry  was  busy  at  work  upon  the 
P.  M.  S.  S.  Co’s  linen— a never-ending  labor  in 
those  days  of  Panama  travel.  Mr.  James  Laid- 
ley  has  built  a residence  on  this  spot,  and  has 
changed  the  appearance  of  things  beyond  recog- 
nition. Farther  on  were  cow-sheds  and  barns, 
and  milk-ranches,  a little  wayside  inn,  where 
soldiers,  with  a day’ s liberty  from  the  Presidio 
barracks,  might  come  and  enjoy  lager  and  lib- 
erty combined.  A few  cottages  were  beside  the 
road,  at  intervals,  until  the  Government  Reserve 
was  reached,  and  the  Presidio,  which  was  then 
a few  dilapidated,  old  adobes,  some  long,  shed- 
like barracks,  and  a cottage  or  two  for  the 
15 


226 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


officers’  quarters — no  more  like  the  Presidio  of 
to-day  than  the  fort  at  Fort  Point  now  is  like 
the  one  built  by  the  old  Spaniards.  Leaving 
out  the  question  of  utility,  the  old  fort  was  far 
more  picturesque  and  charming  to  visit  than  the 
red  brick,  angular,  menacing  pile  of  defense 
now  usurping  its  place.  We  must  confess  to 
the  belief  that  the  old  Spanish  fort  would  haye 
made  a short  and  sorry  fight,  as  compared  with 
its  mighty  successor.  Still,  we  shall  always  re- 
member the  old  one,  and  our  visits  to  it,  with  a 
pleasurable  feeling,  which  never  could  be  awak- 
ened by  any  amount  of  intimacy  with  the  fort 
of  to-day. 

There  was  such  an  air  of  romance  about  the 
old,  gray,  crumbling  walls  and  moldering  ram- 
parts; such  a mute  significance  upon  the  face 
of  everything  within  those  silent  walls,  upon 
the  cliff  that  overhung  the  foamy  beach.  The 
decaying  gun-carriage,  with  wheels  half  buried 
in  the  weeds  and  grass;  the  rusty,  old,  iron 
ring  we  stooped  to  lift,  and  found  it  fast  in 
the  old  plank  scuttle;  some  hidden  cell,  or 
water-tank,  provided  for  a siege.  The  weather- 
worn embrasures,  that  scores  of  years  ago  framed 
in  the  faces  of  seaward-gazing  sentry,  and  com- 
mandante , grave  and  thoughtful — now,  but  the 
basking-place  where  sea-birds  rest  awhile,  blink- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


227 


ing  in  the  warm  sunlight,  and  gathering  fresh 
strength,  again  sail  out  upon  the  winds,  and 
scream  above  the  sea,  whose  monotone  beating 
its  cadence  on  the  rocky  shore  had,  years  ago, 
sung  the  old  fort  to  everlasting  rest. 

This  was  the  end  of  the  Presidio  road.  Horse- 
men often  went  on  over  the  hill  beyond  the  fort 
to  Point  Lobos,  and  to  the  cliff,  where  now  the 
Cliff  House  stands,  and  halted  to  watch  the  pla- 
tyrhynchus  of  Cuvier,  now  popularly  known  as 
Captain  Foster’ s sea  lions.  The  man  of  to-day, 
lounging  luxuriantly  in  a cane  chair  upon  the 
broad,  sheltering  balcony,  leisurely  watching 
through  a good  glass  the  clumsy  gambols  of 
Captain  Foster’ s stock,  with  the  best  of  viands, 
wines  and  fragrant  weeds  at  his  command,  has 
the  advantage  of  him  who,  in  the  saddle  or  on 
foot,  breasted  the  winds  and  dust  over  the  heavy 
path,  with  its  ending  on  the  open  cliff — shelter- 
less and  supperless.  Some  went  on  by  the 
beach  to  the  old  Ocean  House,  and  in  to  the 
Mission  by  the  hill  where  the  Industrial  School 
now  stands.  Some  by  another  way,  between 
Lone  Mountain  and  the  other  hills,  where,  near 
a little  lake,  stood  a small  wayside  house,  whose 
occupant  dispensed  milk-punch,  refreshing,  rich 
and  cool.  This  way  led  to  the  Mission  (nearer 
than  by  the  beach)  across  the  open,  primitive 


228 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


and  unfenced  country,  upon  whose  broad-spread- 
ing acres  most  of  the  thoughtless  riders  looked, 
as  upon  so  much  dirt;  while  a few,  with  saga- 
cious foresight,  seized  the  opportunity,  making 
for  themselves  great  fortunes. 

The  Russ  family  came  to  California  on  the 
ship  Loo  Choo , with  Stevenson’s  Regiment,  and 
were,  altogether,  we  believe — father,  mother, 
sons  and  daughters — twelve  in  number.  The 
old  house  at  the  corner  of  Sixth  and  Harrison 
streets,  on  the  block  known  as  Russ’  Carden, 
was  standing  a year  or  two  since.  J.  C.  C.  & 
A.  C.Russ,  goldsmiths  and  jewelers,  lived  there 
in  1850,  and  had  their  store  on  Montgomery, 
between  Pacific  and  Broadway. 

Russ’  Carden  was  a famous  suburban  resort 
twenty  years  ago  for  the  Cerman  citizens’  May- 
day  festivities,  Sunday-school  picnics  and  mis- 
cellaneous merry-makings.  The  garden  was  a 
little,  dry  knoll  in  the  middle  of  a swamp,  and 
the  rider  who  came  along  the  narrow  road  built 
from  Folsom  street  to  the  garden,  mired  his 
horse  if  he  deviated  in  the  least  from  the  track. 
As  late  as  ’55,  we  have  seen  horses  and  cows 
swamped  on  both  sides  of  the  Folsom  street 
plank-road,  and  on  the  east  side  of  the  road 
leading  to  the  garden.  To-day  it  would  be 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


229 


difficult  to  see  any  traces  of  the  old  neigh- 
borhood; all  seems  alike  south  of  Market  street. 
The  Russ  family  had  a house  on  Bush  street, 
just  above  where  the  Russ  House  stands.  A 
large,  three-story,  wooden  hotel  used  to  occupy 
part  of  the  ground  on  Montgomery  street  now 
covered  by  the  Russ. 

Mr.  Otto  Kloppenburg,  formerly  City  Treas- 
urer, kept  a grocery  store  on  the  Russ  House 
corner  of  Bush  and  Montgomery.  Peyser  Bros, 
kept  a clothing  store  on  this  block  for  twenty 
years  or  more,  and  took  the  corner  of  Bush 
street  when  the  Russ  House  was  built.  There 
they  remained  until  within  a few  months,  when 
they  sold  out  their  lease  to  Mr.  Raphael,  who 
carries  on  the  same  business.  The  Russ  family 
have  always  been  good  citizens,  and  deserve  the 
fortune  which  has  come  to  them  by  the  appre- 
ciation of  the  land  they  had  the  prudent  fore- 
sight to  secure  and  improve. 

Gladwin  & Whitmore  were  merchants  on 
California  street,  between  Montgomery  and  San- 
some.  Horace  M.  Whitmore,  of  this  firm,  was 
always  an  enthusiastic  Californian,  a firm  be- 
liever in  his  adopted  State’ s eventual  perma- 
nence, commercially  and  agriculturally,  in  its 
climatic  advantages,  and  their  certain  influence 
in  its  future  population.  It  was  through  Mr. 


230 


MEN  AND  MEMOKIES 


Whitmore’ s persistent  labors,  with  the  invalu- 
able aid  of  Professor  Davidson,  of  the  United 
States  Coast  Survey,  that  the  Limantour  Fraud 
was  detected  and  thwarted.  Others  have  claimed 
the  credit  of  that  exposure,  but  the  merit  be- 
longs where  we  have  placed  it.  Mr.  Whitmore 
was  the  first  to  agitate  the  widening  of  Kearny 
street,  and  followed  up  the  enterprise  with  that 
tenacious,  patient  industry  of  purpose  in  a good 
cause,  which  was  ever  the  business  of  his  life. 
Few  men  in  San  Francisco  had  made  so  much 
happiness  for  so  many  people,  by  genuine,  unos- 
tentatious kindness  and  charity,  as  Horace  M. 
Whitmore.  In  1849,  Mr.  Whitmore  purchased 
the  house  built  by  Hodman  M.  Pri^e,  on  Cali- 
fornia street,  below  Dupont,  where  he  lived 
until  the  time  of  his  death,  two  years  since. 
Mr.  Whitmore  never  was  away  from  the  State 
after  his  arrival,  in  1849.  He  left  a large  estate, 
in  which  is  the  block  known  as  Trainor’ s How, 
on  Kearny,  corner  of  Sutter  street. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


231 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  three-story  wooden  house  on  Dupont 
street,  just  south  of  the  Congregational  Church, 
on  the  southwest  corner  of  California  and  Du- 
pont, and  occupied  so  many  years  by  Mr.  Tal- 
lant,  the  banker,  was  bought  from  the  cargo  of 
a wrecked  ship,  by  General  Cazneau,  in  the 
spring  of  1850.  Mr.  Joseph  Capprise,  of  Bal- 
timore, superintended  its  erection.  This  house 
was  fitted  and  prepared  for  building  in  the  East, 
and  shipped  for  California. 

On  the  fourth  of  July,  ’50,  this  house  was 
gaily  decorated  with  flags  of  all  nations — a 
novel  proceeding  in  San  Francisco,  exciting 
much  attention.  Among  the  floating  bunting 
was  the  green  banner  and  its  golden  harp,  which 
gave  rise  to  the  rumor  that  it  was  the  residence 
of  the  Irish  Consul.  The  old  house,  which 
stood  so  many  years  high  up  on  the  embank- 
ment, is  now  lowered  to  the  street  level,  and 
changed  past  recognition. 

General  Thomas  N.  Cazneau,  Hon.  H.  H. 


232 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Byrne  and  Mr.  Joseph  Capprise  came  to  Cali- 
fornia on  the  same  ship.  The  General  looks  no 
older  than  on  the  day  of  his  arrival;  hut  his 
two  companions  are  sleeping  in  the  necropolis, 
for  whose  inhabitants  the  sea  sings  everlast- 
ingly a mournful  threnody. 

The  house  of  which  we  have  elsewhere 
spoken,  as  erected  by  Judge  Burritt,  on  the 
northwest  corner  of  Stockton  and  Sutter  streets, 
in  1851,  was  made  and  fitted  for  building,  and 
shipped  in  Boston  for  San  Francisco.  Its  twin 
was  erected  in  Benicia  by  General  Frisbie,  and 
is  at  present,  we  believe,  occupied  by  Captain 
Walsh.  We  have  a vindictive  feeling  for  the 
rascal  who  tried  a few  months  since  to  burn  the 
old  house  in  San  Francisco,  which  has  long  been 
a pleasant  sight  to  the  citizen  who  knew  only 
its  comfortable,  home-like,  Elizabethan  exterior 
through  so  many  long  years,  that  it  had  become 
like  the  kind  face  of  an  old  acquaintance.  But 
those  who  were  more  fortunate,  and  knew  the 
welcome  of  its  interior  in  Lucien  Hermann’s  and 
Hr.  Bowie’ s time,  can  never  forget  the  genuine 
hospitality,  nor  the  fascinating  conversational 
power  of  their  courteous  hosts. 

John  S.  Ellis  had  a shipping  office  in  San 
Francisco,  in  1850.  We  think  the  firm  was  Ellis 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


233 


& Goin — Thomas  Goin;  and  that  they  had  one 
office  on  Central  Wharf,  near  Montgomery  street, 
and  another  at  Clark’ s Point.  Mr.  Ellis  has  since 
filled  the  office  of  Sheriff  for  San  Francisco.  He 
has  resided  in  New  York  at  various  times,  but 
his  time  in  that  city  has  always  been  occupied 
in  advancing  the  interests  of  California’ s vini- 
cultural  products. 

Writing  of  Mr.  Ellis’  shipping  office,  reminds 
us  of  George  W.  Virgin,  the  shipping  master, 
whose  office  was  robbed  by  the  Sydney  thief, 
Jenkins,  who  was  caught  in  the  act,  and  hung. 
Mr.  Virgin  went  from  San  Francisco  to  Siam, 
and  became  an  Admiral  in  the  Siamese  Royal 
Navy,  and  a prime  favorite  with  the  Emperor, 
from  whom  he  received  distinguished  consider- 
ation until  his  death.  His  Majesty  made  his 
favorite  Admiral’s  obsequies  a most  imposing 
pageant. 

Theodore  C.  Sanborn  was  of  the  firm  of  Gas- 
sett  & Sanborn,  on  Jackson  street  wharf  in 
’50.  They  were  commission  merchants,  and 
lost  largely  in  a great  rice  speculation.  Many 
years  afterward,  we  think  in  the  Washoe  ex- 
citement of  ’62-’  63,  Mr.  Sanborn  was  fortunate, 
and  paid  thousands  of  dollars  to  his  old  credit- 
ors, notwithstanding  time  had  released  him 


234 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


from  all  legal  responsibility.  This  we  know, 
and  record  the  fact  with  genuine  pleasure. 

Finley,  Johnson  & Co.  were  on  the  corner  of 
Washington  and  Montgomery  streets.  J.  W. 
Austin  was  of  this  firm. 

Annan,  Lord  & Co.  were  at  No.  275  Mont- 
gomery street. 

L.  W.  Sloat,  son  of  Commodore  Sloat,  was 
proprietor  of  the  Merchants’  Exchange,  on  the 
corner  of  Washington  and  Montgomery  streets. 
Mr.  Sloat  was  a conchologist,  and  had  in  his 
rooms  a rare  collection  of  shells. 

Hiram  B.  Sherman  was  also  on  the  corner  of 
Montgomery  and  Washington. 

Burgoyne  & Co.,  bankers,  were  on  the  south- 
west corner  of  Washington  and  Montgomery. 
John  Y.  Plume  was  a partner  in  this  banking 
house.  We  are  pleased  to  see  Mr.  Plume  again 
in  our  streets,  after  so  many  years’  absence. 

Mazera  1ST.  Medina  had  an  office  on  Mont- 
gomery, a little  north  of  Washington  street; 
and  Medina,  Hartog  & Co.  were  on  Washington, 
above  Montgomery. 

Middleton  & Hood  were  auction  and  commis- 
sion merchants,  at  269  Montgomery  street.  The 
head  of  this  firm  was  Mr.  John  Middleton,  who 
is  just  as  cool  and  self-controlled  to-day  as  he 
was  twenty-three  years  ago— moves,  acts,  speaks, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


235 


and  seems  the  same.  We  sincerely  hope  that 
another  score  of  years  may  find  him  as  he  is 
to-day.  Two  doors  from  the  store  of  Middle- 
ton  & Hood,  Harry  Meiggs  had  his  office,  and 
we,  with  many  others,  believe  San  Francisco 
would  have  been  none  the  loser  were  his  office 
there  to-day. 

P.  A.  Morse,  counselor-at-law,*had  his  office 
on  the  corner  of  Washington  and  Montgomery. 
John  Nugent’s  office  was  on  Montgomery,  be- 
tween Washington  and  Clay. 

Conroy  & O’  Connor  were  on  Montgomery, 
north  of  Washington.  John  Rainey’s  store  was 
on  Montgomery,  north  of  Washington. 

James  Hows  & Co.  were  on,  or  next  door  to, 
the  corner  of  Washington  and  Montgomery ; 
and  we  seem  to  remember  Mr.  Phelps  as  a sales- 
man for  Hows  & Co. — T.  G-.  Phelps,  who  has 
since  been  Congressman  for  California,  and  Col- 
lector for  the  Port  of  San  Francisco. 

Beebe  & Co.  (S.  Ludlow)  were  bankers  on 
Montgomery,  between  Washington  and  Clay,  in 
’ 50 ; and  C.  Marriott  was  a real  estate  broker 
close  by.  Edward  S.  Spear  was  a broker  at 
271  Montgomery  street.  Henry  M.  Naglee, 
since  Gen.  Naglee,  was  a banker  on  the  corner 
of  Merchant  and  Montgomery.  Henry  M.  Naglee 
came  to  California  as  a Captain  in  Stevenson’ s 


236 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Regiment.  Manrow  & Co.  (W.  H.  Meeks)  were 
on  Montgomery,  near  Washington.  There  are 
many  men  who  were  then  in  active  business  in 
San  Francisco,  whom  we  remember,  and  might 
mention ; but  we  must  not  subside  into  a San 
Francisco  Directory  for  the  spring  of  ’50. 

Henry  Meiggs  was  one  of  the  most  enter- 
prising, generous  and  intelligent  men  who  ever 
came  to  San  Francisco,  and  his  departure  was 
one  of  the  greatest  losses  that  ever  occurred  to 
the  city,  in  the  taking  of  one  individual  from 
its  population.  The  unfortunate  complication 
and  overwhelming  liabilities  which  drove  him 
from  us,  was  a greater  calamity  to  the  prosperity 
of  San  Francisco  than  a conflagration  or  a flood. 
For  him,  personally,  in  a financial  view,  it  was 
a great  movement,  and  the  tide  which  bore  him 
through  the  u Golden  Gate”  11  led  on  to  for- 
tune.” How,  he  is  the  Rothschild  of  Peru — 
the  man  to  whom  the  Government  applies  in 
time  of  need,  and  not  in  vain;  nor  yet  did  any 
one  ever  personally  apply  to  him  for  aid,  or  for 
the  settlement  of  any  just  debt , without  satisfaction. 
The  tribute  paid  to  Mr.  Meiggs  by  the  late  Hon. 
Edward  Tompkins,  in  a letter  published  in  the 
San  Francisco  News  Letter , was  the  reward 
from  one  good  man  to  another.  Every  just 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


287 


claim  presented  to  Mr.  Meiggs  has  been  liqui- 
dated; and  the  accusations  made  by  some  in 
authority  against  that  gentleman  after  his  de- 
parture, were  utterly  without  foundation,  but 
were  of  great  convenience,  just  then,  to  some 
whom  we  all  know  to  be  honorable  men . 

Music,  art,  charity  and  society  met  with  a 
great  loss  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  Meiggs.  The 
Music  Hall,  which  stood  where  the  Occidental 
Hotel  now  stands,  was  built  by  that  gentleman. 
Mr.  Leach,  Mr.  Beutler,  Geo.  Loder,  Mrs.  Wells, 
Miss  Leach,  Mr.  Zander,  and  many  other  celeb- 
rities, came  to  California  by  the  influence  of 
Mr.  Meiggs.  The  organ  in  Trinity  Church  was 
the  gift  of  that  gentleman.  We  believe  no  man 
ever  went  away  from  among  us  more  sincerely 
regretted,  and  if  he  were  to  return,  we  are  sure 
that  his  reception  would  be  an  ovation. 

The  wharf  at  North  Beach,  stretching  so  far 
into  the  harbor,  was  built  by  Mr.  Meiggs,  and 
is  as  much  a feature  of  the  city  as  the  Plaza,  or 
Montgomery  street. 

It  was  no  inconsiderable  undertaking  in  the 
early  days  to  build  such  a pier;  and  now  it  is 
suggestive  of  what  the  builder  might  accomplish 
in  our  city,  with  to-day’ s facilities.  Mr.  Meiggs’ 
departure  from  this  city  was  an  unfortunate 
mistake  on  his  part,  and  still  more  unfortunate 


238 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


for  the  welfare  of  San  Francisco.  Sad  he  re- 
mained with  us,  the  false  accusations  which, 
by  reason  of  his  absence,  certain  people 
found  it  convenient  to  lay  at  his  door,  would 
have  been  traced  then,  as  they  since  have  been, 
to  their  proper  source;  and  he  would  have  long 
ago  outlived  his  financial  troubles,  and  won  the 
confidence  and  esteem  which  his  subsequently 
honorable  career  gives  him  in  the  minds  of  all. 
just  Californians.  In  South  America,  the  mu- 
nificence of  his  charities,  and  the  grandeur  of 
his  operations  in  business,  have  made  his  name 
a proverb. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


239 


CHAPTER  XXY. 

In  June,  1851,  the  citizens  of  San  Francisco, 
who  had  long  been  smothering  their  indigna- 
tion at  the  condition  of  things,  superinduced 
by  the  lax  administration  of  justice  to  crimi- 
nals, wxere  aroused  to  terrible  action  by  the 
detection  of  a burglar  in  the  very  act  of  carry- 
ing off  a portable  safe,  which  he  had  just  stolen 
from  an  office  on  Long  Wharf.  The  property 
belonged  to  George  W.  Virgin,  who  had  a ship- 
ping office,  through  the  floor  of  which  the  bur- 
glar cut  an  entrance,  took  the  safe — merely  a 
big  iron  box — into  his  boat  beneath  the  build- 
ing, and  pulled  out  into  the  bay.  He  was  fol- 
lowed by  several  boats,  containing  men  who 
had  overheard  him  at  his  work,  and  when  nearly 
overhauled,  threw  his  booty  overboard.  Some 
of  his  pursuers  hove  to,  and  succeeded  in  grap- 
pling the  sunken  treasure  and  safely  landing  it, 
when  it  was  identified.  The  other  boats  fol- 
lowed, and  arrested  the  burglar  after  a short, 
desperate  fight.  He  was  taken  to  the  rooms  of 


240 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  Vigilance  Committee,  and  proved  to  be  a 
Sydney  thief  named  Jenkins,  a low,  brutal, 
foul-mouthed  villain,  of  herculean  frame,  with 
thick,  coarse  red  hair  and  beard.  He  was  imme- 
diately tried,  and  convicted  on  indisputable 
testimony.  He  had  been  heard  at  his  work, 
standing  in  his  boat,  cutting  through  the  floor 
into  the  building;  seen  putting  the  safe  into 
the  boat;  followed  by  men  who  never  for  a mo- 
ment lost  sight  of  him;  observed  to  throw 
overboard  the  stolen  property,  which  was  sub- 
sequently raised  and  recognized;  and  finally 
captured. 

All  of  this  occurred  early  in  the  evening, 
and  by  the  time  the  trial  was  finished  and 
the  sentence  passed,  it  was  midnight.  The  bell 
upon  the  engine  house  tolled  out  upon  the 
quiet  night — the  preconcerted  signal.  Soon,  a 
thousand  men,  ready  and  armed  for  action,  had 
assembled.  The  doomed  man,  with  pinioned 
arms,  was  marched  out,  along  Sansome,  Cali- 
fornia, Montgomery  and  Clay  streets,  to  the 
Plaza.  A proposition  by  some  thoughtless  per- 
son, to  hang  the  condemned  upon  the  flag-staff, 
was  scorned  as  sacrilege,  and  the  crowd  moved 
on  to  the  old  adobe,  which  stood  on  the  north- 
western corner  of  the  Plaza.  Over  a beam  of 
the  veranda,  on  the  building’s  southern  end, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


241 


the  rope  was  thrown — its  other  end  already 
round  the  prisoner’ s neck,  and  when  all  was 
ready,  the  silent  but  determined  crowd  dragged 
him  along  the  ground  and  off  his  feet,  up  to  the 
beam.  They  held  his  body  hanging  there  for 
hours,  relays  of  men,  relieving  others,  quiet  and 
orderly,  speaking  in  whispers. 

There  is  something  indescribably  awful,  and 
ominously  thrilling,  about  a silent  crowd  of  men 
in  the  darkness  of  night.  Loud  words  of  jest 
and  laughter,  or  angry  altercation,  give  explana- 
tion; but  a dense  crowd  of  silent  men,  stand- 
ing, mysterious  and  alarmingly  suggestive,  or 
moving  on,  with  that  muffled  tramp,  so  terrible 
and  never  to  be  forgotten,  when  heard  from  the 
feet  of  hurrying  men  with  silent  tongues,  chills 
the  listener’s  blood  with  dreadful  apprehension. 
Jenkins^  after  his  sentence,  was  asked  to  see  a 
priest,  which  he  declined,  saying  he  would 
rather  have  a cigar;  after  which  he  requested 
some  brandy  and  water.  On  the  way  to  the 
gallows  he  spoke  not  a word.  Arrived  at  the 
fatal  spot,  he  refused,  with  obscenity  and  curses, 
the  renewed  offers  of  religious  consolation,  and 
died  with  ribaldry  upon  his  lips.  The  night 
was  moonlit,  often  obscured  a moment  by  the 
passing  clouds,  bringing  out,  clearly  defined,  and 
then  veiling  in  alternate  light  and  charitable 
16 


242 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


shade,  the  lifeless,  hanging  body,  whose  head 
and  features,  seen  in  “the  phases  of  the  moon,” 
horribly  grotesque,  seemed  nodding  and  grin- 
ning contemptuous  defiance  at  his  executioners. 

Stuart,  murderer  as  he  was,  had  something 
almost  redeeming,  as  he  walked  to  death,  look- 
ing, to  the  casual  glance,  no  different  from  the 
other  men,  in  whose  ranks  he  walked  erect  and 
firm,  with  gleaming  eye  and  unblanched  face, 
dressed  in  a full  suit  of  black,  with  every  out- 
ward indication  of  a gentleman. 

Watching  the  chances  has  been  rewarded 
oftentimes  by  rich  results  in  San  Francisco. 
There  are  two  rich  men  in  this  city,  who  accu- 
mulated the  bulk  of  their  wealth  by  watching 
for  accidents  in  the  business  of  other  men;  for 
omissions  in  legal  documents;  for  little  loop- 
holes, wherein  to  insert  one  finger,  until  a larger 
orifice  might  be  worn,  and  a lodgment  ob- 
tained, from  which  to  worry  off  the  just  and 
rightful  owners,  by  bluffing,  annoying,  harass- 
ing, or,  that  failing,  to  compromise,  i.  e.,  black- 
mail. When  we  say  there  are  two,  we  must  not 
be  understood  as  saying  there  are  only  two,  for 
doubtless  there  are  scores  of  them;  but  this 
particular  couple  are,  and  have  been  for  many 
years,  under  our  especial  observation,  attracted 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


243 


first,  many  years  ago,  by  a most  cruel  and 
treacherous  act,  which  robbed  a widow  and  sev- 
eral orphans,  leaving  them  entirely  destitute. 

These  men  have  emissaries  constantly  on  the 
watch  for  any  flaw  in  titles,  toy  discrepancy  in 
dates,  any  complication  of  circumstances,  during 
which  the  crowding  of  claims,  or  pressure  for 
payment,  would  ruin  a man  financially;  which 
facts,  brought  to  their  knowledge,  brings  them 
down  immediately  on  their  prey.  No  home,  no 
wife  nor  children,  no  domestic  agony,  are  con- 
sidered for  a moment,  when  these  men  are 
legally  enforced;  and  if  the  wrongs,  the  op- 
pression, the  ruined  men  and  separated  families, 
and  all  their  wretchedness,  through  the  rapacity 
of  these  two  men,  could  be  recorded,  ’twould 
be  a most  damning  record.  They  have  never 
committed  any  act  without  the  sanction  of  law. 
They  are  among  our  first  citizens;  they  flaunt 
their  wealth  most  arrogantly;  but,  as  the  old 
farmer  said  of  one  of  his  neighbors  who  was 
exceedingly  blasphemous,  boasting  that  his 
crop  was  in,  all  safely  housed,  without  praying 
for  the  Divine  aid  he  didn’t  want  and  didn’t 
believe  in,  “Yes,  yes,  neighbor;  but  God  doesn’t 
settle  with  everybody  in  October!”  And  our 
two  highly  respected  citizens  still  flourish. 

Smaller  rogues  sometimes  watch  the  chances, 


244 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


with  very  profitable  results — for  the  nonce; 
though  no  man  or  woman  ever  wronged  another, 
without  punishment  equal  to  the  offense,  and 
without  being  conscious  of  it  when  the  penalty 
came. 

There  was  an  English  Jew  in  San  Francisco 
in  the  early  days,  who  was  very  plausible,  cour- 
teous and  respectable  in  appearance.  What  he 
did  for  a livelihood  was  not  known  or  ques- 
tioned, perhaps,  as  no  one  confined  himself  to 
one  particular  vocation.  The  merchant  or  the 
mechanic  might  follow,  ostensibly,  but  one  oc- 
cupation, might  be  in  his  office  or  shop  at  just 
such  stated  hours  as  the  merchant  or  mechanic 
of  to-day;  hut  he  would  be  speculating  in  a 
dozen  operations  if  they  promised  good  profits, 
— and  they  mostly  did  then. 

This  Israelitish  subject  of  H.  B.  M.  formed 
the  acquaintance  of  the  Peralta  family,  and 
quite  soon  ingratiated  himself  in  their  favor. 
The  native  Californians  were  as  unsuspecting  as 
they  were  hospitable  and  honest,  trusting  im- 
plicitly their  fellow-men.  About  that  time,  a 
sale  of  land  on  the  Peralta  tract  brought  in  a 
large  sum  of  money  to  its  owner.  The  money 
was  paid  in  gold  coin,  upon  the  counter  of  Pal- 
mer, Cook  & Co’s  Bank,  in  the  presence  of  Col. 
Hayes,  Major  Caperton  and  Mr.  Cook,  of  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


245 


firm.  The  obsequious  and  solicitous  friend 
was  there,  attending  to  the  interests  of  El 
Senor  Peralta,  and  advised  him  not  to  leave  so 
large  an  amount  in  one  bank,  for  fear  of  acci- 
dents; but  to  distribute  it  in  fifty  thousand 
dollar  deposits  in  the  various  banking  houses, 
which  sage  counsel  was  followed.  The  old  gen- 
tleman did  not  notice  that  the  amount  placed 
in  Davidson’s  Bank  was  on  a certificate  in  favor 
of  his  officious  friend.  He  did  notice,  however, 
that  his  attentive  and  constant  visitor  was  ab- 
sent after  that  day;  and  subsequently  learned 
that  he  had  drawn  the  deposit  at  Davidson’ s, 
and  left  on  the  first  steamer  for  other  climes. 

The  original  owners  of  California  lands  were 
shamefully  robbed,  wronged  and  despoiled  by 
squatters,  and  the  thieving  lawyers  who  set 
them  to  their  work.  The  most  infamous  schemes 
were  hatched  by  law  firms  in  San  Francisco,  to 
rob  the  noblest,  kindest  men  on  the  earth — the 
Bancheros  of  California.  The  recital  of  some 
facts  would  be  of  extreme  interest  to  the  pub- 
lic, and  more  exciting  than  pleasant  to  some  of 
our  first  citizens. 

Palmer,  Cook  & Co.  were  ever  the  friends  of 
the  old  Spanish  proprietors,  aiding  them  with 
money  and  advice.  Nearly  all  the  great  claims 


246 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


were  settled  through  their  house,  unselfishly 
and  honorably  on  their  side,  and  in  the  best 
interests  of  their  clients;  and  never,  to  our 
knowledge,  was  this  banking  firm  anything  else 
than  an  aid  and  help  to  all  honest  men  seeking 
their  cooperation. 

Moses  Ellis  was  of  the  firm  of  Ellis,  Crosby 
& Co.,  on  Sansome  street,  between  Jackson  and 
Pacific,  in  the  spring  of  ’50.  Mr.  Ellis  was  a 
very  successful  merchant,  and  left  San  Fran- 
cisco a few  years  since  to  reside  in  some  village 
in  Massachusetts.  We  believe  the  California 
fever  attacks  him  periodically,  and  we  consider 
it  a mere  question  of  time  as  to  when  he  shall 
succumb.  We  think  that  George  Sanderson, 
who  had  been  in  Stockton  since  ? 49,  came  to 
San  Francisco,  and  took  Mr.  Ellis’  business  on 
Front  street,  when  the  latter  gentleman  retired. 

A.  J.  Ellis,  who  was  at  work  one  day  in  ’49. 
near  Montgomery  and  Jackson  streets,  ran  a 
splinter  under  his  nail,  and  on  the  spur,  or  the 
splinter  of  the  moment,  with  that  choleric  im- 
petuosity which  is  characteristic  of  him,  threw 
his  plane  as  far  as  he  could  into  the  open  lot, 
now  covered  by  the  Metropolitan  Theatre,  vow- 
ing that  he  would  never  do  another  day’ s car- 
pentering. He  never  has,  and  survives  remark- 
ably well. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


247 


There  was  a Mr.  William  Sharron  in  San  Fran- 
cisco in  the  spring  of  ’ 50,  who  was  a broker  and 
commission  merchant.  He  lived  on  the  corner 
of  Union  and  Mason  streets.  We  do  not  know 
whether  it  was  the  gentleman  who  figures  so 
prominently  in  the  financial  affairs  of  San  Fran- 
cisco to-day.  We  merely  remember  a gentle- 
man of  that  name,  and  that  he  lived  in  the 
above  mentioned  place.  We  know  that  he  is 
a man  who  has  very  little  to  say ; but  that  he  is 
heard  from  to  considerable  purpose  occasionally, 
which  induces  us  to  believe  that  the  Mr.  Shar- 
ron of  ’73  and  the  Mr.  Sharron  of  the  spring  of 

’50  are  identical. 

\ 

R.  N.  Berry  was  the  lively  broker,  operator 
and  commission  merchant  of  those  days;  and 
subsequently,  as  long  as  his  health  permitted 
the  exercise  of  his  remarkable  energies  and  fer- 
tile brain.  Business  to  him  was  a mere  pas- 
time, like  a recreation  to  ordinary  men.  Mr. 
Berry’s  management  of  business  affairs  was  like 
the  action  of  the  painter,  writer  or  advocate 
who  has  genius  to  aid  his  labors. 

There  were  two  brothers  Sanchez,  real  estate 
brokers,  on  Clay  street,  above  Montgomery, 
Bernardino  and  Santura.  There  was  also  a 
Joseph  Sanchez,  a broker,  on  Broadway,  be- 


248 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


tween  Stockton  and  Dupont,  but  we  do  not 
know  that  he  was  a brother  of  the  Clay  street 
firm. 

Robert  Turnbull  was  a broker  on  Washing- 
ton street;  and  J.  Ambrose  Hooper  was  in  the 
same  business  on  Jackson  street.  They  were 
active,  busy  men. 

James  Mcllwain  was  a wide-awake  broker  in 
those  days,  and  is  to-day;  but  he  was  a mere 
boy  then,  although  he  could  sell  merchandise 
with  any  of  the  men,  and  was  a lively  feature 
in  the  streets,  rattling  back  and  forth  on  his 
long-tailed,  scampering  pony.  To-day,  as  in 
the  spring  of  ’ 50,  his  word  is  as  good  as  his 
bond. 

Asa  and  George  Loring  were  manufacturing 
jewelers  in  San  Francisco  in  ’50.  Whether  they 
were  of  the  firm  of  Loring  & Hogg,  in  Ward’s 
Court,  or  whether  they  were  with  Hayes  & 
Lyndall,  on  Clay  street,  we  are  uncertain;  but 
we  do  know  that  they  were  good  craftsmen,  and 
good  citizens.  Asa  is  long  since  dead.  George 
worked  in  Grass  Yalley  for  many  years  since 
’ 51— ’52,  but  is  at  present  employed  in  the  U.  S. 
Mint  at  San  Francisco. 

Robert  Shankland  was  of  the  firm  of  Shank- 
land  & Gibson,  auctioneers,  on  Kearny,  between 
Washington  and  Jackson.  Mr.  Shankland  now 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


249 


leads  a bucolic  life,  in  company  with  Mr.  James 
L.  Riddle,  near  Mountain  View. 

The  Hon.  Thos.  H.  Selby  was  of  the  firm  of 
Selby  & Post,  metal  dealers,  on  Sacramento 
street,  between  Kearny  and  Dupont,  in'  the 
spring  of  ’ 50 — active,  shrewd  and  enterprising 
then  as  now. 

Isaiah  0.  Woods,  who  was  the  manager  of 
Adams  & Co’s  banking  house  in  San  Francisco, 
was  never  understood  or  appreciated  by  the 
general  public.  He  is  one  of  the  ablest  busi- 
ness men  ever  in  San  Francisco.  Had  he  been 
allowed  to  settle  the  affairs  of  Adams  & Co.,  it 
would  have  been  far  better  for  the  creditors  of 
that  firm.  Mr.  Woods  is  a man  who  would,  in 
any  other  city  than  San  Francisco,  have  been 
considered  a valuable  acquisition  to  its  business 
men — its  men  of  brains — its  great  movers  and 
workers — and  not  only  permitted,  but  requested 
to  remain  where  he  was — would  have  been  aided 
and  cooperated  with,  in  continuing  the  house  of 
Adams  & Co. 

Mr.  Woods  can  originate  any  enterprise,  clearly 
and  feasibly,  which,  if  carried  out  in  detail,  un- 
der his  direction,  will  eventuate  prosperously 
for  the  public  and  the  projectors  of  the  scheme. 
There  was  too  much  misrepresentation,  preju- 


250 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


dice  and  excitement  at  the  time  of  the  Adams 
& Co.  failure;  it  was  a very  bad  affair,  but 
ought  not  to  have'  been  charged  to  I.  C.  Woods 
in  all  its  disastrous  mismanagement.  Such  men, 
with  a fair  chance,  make  business  and  prosperity 
for  any  city;  and  any  such  men’s  withdrawal, 
voluntary  or  compulsory,  from  business,  is  a 
public  misfortune.  We  have  always  considered 
Mr.  Woods  as  ranking  in  ability  with  I.  Fried- 
lander,  W.  C.  Ralston,  Jabez  Howes,  J.  Palmer, 
Charles  Cook,  Harry  Meiggs,  and  the  late  Henry 
Haight — men  of  broad,  comprehensive  vision, 
never  forgetting  the  grand  perspective,  far- 
reaching  to  the  horizon,  because  of  some  puny 
obstacle  held  temporarily  before  their  eyes. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


251 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Where  the  Grand  Hotel  stands,  on  Market 
.and  Second  streets,  there  was,  in  1849,  and  up 
to  1853-4,  a sand-hill,  which  was  the  subject  of 
long  and  well-contested  litigation,  with  strangely 
fluctuating  fortune  for  the  claimants  on  either 
side.  It  was  taken  to  the  Supreme  Court  and  de- 
cided in  favor  of  one  party ; a rehearing  granted, 
and,  after  another  long  struggle,  decided  in 
favor  of  the  other  party.  Then  the  ulti- 
mately successful  ones  were  forced  to  hold  it 
by  force  of  arms.  We  remember  Selim  and  Fred. 
Woodworth  and  Stephen  Teschemacher  arm- 
ing and  equipping  themselves  with  shotguns, 
revolvers,  sandwiches  and  stimulants,  and  en- 
camping on  the  ground  to  hold  possession 
against  squatters,  as  late  as  1853.  In  1857  it 
was  leased  to  Mr.  Pease,  brother  of  E.  T.  Pease, 
who  occupied  it  as  a coal-yard,  at  a merely 
nominal  price,  to  hold  possession  for  its  owners. 
Although  Second  street  was  well  built  up  on 
both  sides,  from  Market  to  Rincon  Hill,  Mar- 
ket street,  west  of  Second,  was  little  more  than 


252 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


a sand-waste.  Father  Maginnis’  Church  and  a 
few  straggling  buildings  were  the  only  objects 
to  mark  the  street  line ; and  for  a long  time 
after  Kearny  was  navigable  to  Market  and 
across  into  Third  street,  there  was  a high  sand- 
bank across  Market,  so  high  that  the  person 
walking  from  Kearny  into  Third,  could  not  see 
the  “Devisadero”  heights,  beyond  the  Mission’ 
If  we  remember  rightly,  the  obstruction  re- 
mained there  until  excavated  by  the  track- 
layers of  the  Market  Street  Railroad. 

At  the  corner  of  O’Farrell  and  Dupont 
streets,  in  1855-6,  was  a laundry;  but  the  lat- 
ter street  was  a cul  de  sac,  unless  you  scaled  the 
almost  perpendicular  sand-hank  directly  across 
the  street,  at  the  end  of  the  laundry  building, 
which  feat  accomplished,  you  saw  a quiet  val- 
ley, with  a little,  shallow  laguna , a few  cottages, 
and  a garden  and  hot-houses  of  considerable 
dimensions,  where  Monsieur  Habert  cultivated 
exotics.  The  diminished  domains  of  that  gar- 
den still  remain  on  Eddy  street,  near  Powell, 
and  a signboard  informs  the  public  that  M. 
Yivien  is  the  successor  of  M.  Habert.  This 
region  was  called  St.  Ann’s  Yalley  then,  and 
the  way  to  the  Mission  was  easy  for  horses  or 
pedestrians  across  this  valley,  the  ground  being 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


253 


generally  firmer  than  round  about  it.  As  you 
went  on,  you  saw  a little  church-belfry  above 
the  sand-hills;  the  same  building  now  standing 
on  the  corner  of  Geary  and  Mason,  and  used 
at  present  as  a school-house.  A big  sand-hill 
stood  where  Starr  King’s  Church,  the  City 
College,  and  the  blocks  of  buildings  on  both 
sides  of  Stockton,  between  Geary  and  O’ Farrell, 
now  stand. 

A large  wooden  house,  the  residence  of 
Dr.  Gates,  stood  on  the  hill  at  the  south- 
west corner  of  Geary  and  Stockton;  as  high 
— the  ground  floors  of  it — as  the  roof  of  the 
College  building  on  the  opposite  corner  now 
is  from  the  present  street  level.  In  ’59  or  ’60 
this  building  was  lowered  and  placed  on  the 
Geary  street  line,  where  it  now  stands,  occupied 
by  Dr.  Calvert,  dentist.  In  ’60  and  ’61  Mr. 
Ohm,  the  importer  of  watches  for  so  many  years 
in  this  city,  came  to  live  in  the  cottage  adjoin- 
ing the  building  last  mentioned,  and  soon  after 
purchased  the  fifty-vara  lot  in  the  centre  of 
the  block,  on  the  Geary  street  line,  and  erected 
the  four  commodious  dwellings  now  thereon. 
Long  after  this  time,  the  Union  Plaza-ground 
was  covered  by  a sand-hill,  so  high  that  the 
neighbors  on  the  surrounding  streets  could  see 
only  the  roofs  of  the  houses  opposite  their  own. 


254 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Near  the  corner  of  Powell  and  Geary,  on  the 
latter  street,  was  a three-story  wooden  build- 
ing, used  as  a laundry.  The  same  building  is 
now  on  Powell,  just  below  Geary,  on  the  east 
side  of  the  street,  and  now  answers  for  a double 
house.  Where  Dr.  Hemphill’s  Church  now 
stands,  there  was  a single  story  cottage  and 
stables,  occupied  by  the  owner  of  the  property. 
A pretty  little  girl  with  flaxen  curls  used  to  live 
there ; and  often,  when  we  passed  that  way,  she 
put  her  tiny  hands  through  the  railing  of  the 
fence,  for  us  to  shake,  and  wish  her  “Good 
morning ! ’ ’ 

Where  the  Scotch  Presbyterian  Church  stands, 
on  Mason  street,  near  Eddy,  there  stood,  until 
three  or  four  years  ago,  the  house  of  Henry 
Gerke,  the  great  viniculturist. 

Mr.  Gerke  built  on  this  spot  in  1847,  more 
than  a year  before  the  discovery  of  gold  in  dig- 
ging the  Sutter  mill-race.  The  Gerke  House 
was  a capacious  wooden  building,  two  stories, 
with  a high  roof,  and  broad,  sheltering  veran- 
das on  both  stories — a comfortable,  homelike 
dwelling.  We  used  to  look  upon  this  house 
with  peculiar  feelings  of  regard  and  interest 
years  ago,  when  passing  it;  standing  solitary 
among  the  sand-hills,  so  remote  from  even  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


255 


little  city  which  was  itself  so  far  away  from  all 
the  rest  of  busy  human  kind.  It  seemed  so 
strange  a place  to  build  a home — away  from 
all  society,  out  of  sight  of  every  human  habita- 
tion— so  still  by  day  and  lonesome  after  night- 
fall, year  after  year — until  gregarious  man- 
kind approached,  with  steady  creeping  tide  of 
population,  until  its  flood  surrounded  them  on 
every  side,  and  Fate  or  Chance,  as  if  resenting 
the  long  and  silent  isolation  of  that  old  home, 
built  on  the  very  spot  a church,  where  hundreds 
now  meet  in  congregation,  and  raise  their  voices 
in  loud  united  praise  and  songs  of  thanksgiving. 

The  Waverly  House  was  a large,  four- story 
wooden  building,  on  the  north  side  of  Pacific 
street,  between  Montgomery  and  Kearny.  It 
was  painted  a dark  brown,  and  the  words  “Wav- 
erly House”  painted  in  huge  white  letters  upon 
its  front.  It  was  very  well  conducted,  and 
quite  a comfortable  place,  at  five  dollars  per 
diem,  per  capita.  The  house  stood  upon  an  un- 
even portion  of  the  street,  and  the  platform  be- 
fore the  entrance  was,  at  its  eastern  end,  raised 
but  two  or  three  steps  above  the  ground,  while, 
at  the  western  extremity  of  the  hotel  front,  it 
ended  twelve  feet  above  the  ground,  without 
rail  or  guard  of  any  kind.  We  remember  an 


256 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


invalid  passenger  (a  Mr.  Chapman)  who  arrived 
in  June,  ’ 50,  being  sufficiently  recovered  to  take 
a little  evening  exercise  on  the  platform,  walked 
hack  and  forth  a few  times  in  the  dark,  and 
then,  thinking  to  extend  his  promenade  round 
the  corner,  walked  off,  severely  injuring  him- 
self, and  prolonging  his  stay  at  the  “Waverly.” 

The  hill,  up  Clay  street  to  the  postoffice,  on 
the  corner  of  Pike  and  Clay,  was  very  steep  in 
the  spring  of  ’ 50.  The  Plaza  was  an  open,  un- 
interrupted space,  from  the  buildings  on  Clay 
street  to  those  on  Washington  street.  Steps 
were  cut  into  the  ground  along  where  the  side- 
walk now  borders  the  Plaza,  and  in  some  places 
on  the  opposite  side — quite  an  aid  in  climbing 
for  letters  at  the  postoffice.  Colonel  Geary 
opened  the  first  postoffice  on  the  corner  of 
Washington  and  Montgomery;  thence  he  re- 
moved to  the  corner  of  Washington  and  Stock- 
ton;  thence  to  the  corner  of  Pike  and  Clay. 
Here,  long  lines  of  patient  men,  six  and  twelve 
months  from  home,  via  Cape  Horn,  waited  for 
letters.  The  looker-on  could  see  happy  faces 
and  sad  ones  turning  away  from  the  windows, 
whence  issued  sealed  missives  more  portentous 
than  the  contents  of  Pandora’ s box!  The  win- 
dow-clerks rarely,  if  ever,  had  change  for  a 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


257 


dollar,  and  the  happy  recipient  of  a letter  cared 
nothing  at  such  a moment  for  his  change. 

It  was  said  that  some  fellows  made  quite  a good 
salary  by  selling  out,  when  near  the  window,  to 
some  new  comer,  with  more  money  than  patience. 
In  1851,  the  postoffice  was  removed  to  the  zinc- 
covered  building  on  the  northeast  corner  of 
Dupont  and  Clay,  the  westhern  half  of  which 
house  was  occupied  at  the  same  time  by  E. 
Wilson,  as  a restaurant.  Mr.  Wilson  afterward 
opened  Wilson’ s Exchange,  now  the  American 
Exchange,  on  Sansome,  near  Sacramento  street. 
We  never  pass  these  old  postoffice  neighbor- 
hoods, without  imagining  the  air  peopled  with 
invisible  beings,  haunting  the  spot  where  they 
were  born  of  joys  and  sorrows,  engendered  in 
the  hearts  of  men,  excessively  emotional. 

The  first  brick  building  on  California  street 
was  erected  for  Fitzgerald,  Bausch  & Brewster, 
who  were,  prior  to  that  time,  on  Sacramento 
street.  This  brick  building  stood  where  the 
California  market  now  stands.  Where  Mr. 
Stevenson’s  large  brick  building  now  stands,  on 
the  southwest  corner  of  California  and  Mont- 
gomery streets,  Leidesdorff’s  cottage  stood  in 
1849.  It  was  a one-story  building,  with  a pyra- 
midal kind  of  roof.  The  front  of  the  house 
17 


258 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


faced  the  east  as  nearly  as  any  point,  for  it  stood 
diagonally  on  the  lot.  There  were  two  windows 
and  a door  in  the  front;  the  door  was  reached 
by  a little  flight  of  steps  to  a platform,  with  a 
railing.  There  was  a railed  enclosure,  com- 
mencing at  the  Montgomery  street  south  end 
of  the  house,  and  the  west  end  on  California 
street.  There  was  a large  wooden  building  on 
this  corner  in  ’50  or  ’51.  Payne  & Dewey  had 
an  auction  and  sales  room  in  the  lower  story. 
John  Middleton  also  had  an  auction  room  in 
the  same  place.  Clayton  once  kept  a restaurant, 
called  the  “ Jackson  House,”  in  the  same  build- 
ing. Madame  Martin,  since  of  the  Maison  Dore, 
]ST.  Y.,  used  to  keep  lodging  rooms  in  this  house. 

A sketch  of  Montgomery  street,  by  Pender- 
gast,  showing  the  front  of  this  building,  and 
Chinamen  at  work  in  the  erection  of  Parrott’s 
stone  building,  now  occupied  by  Wells,  Fargo  & 
Co.,  may  be  seen  at  Barry  & Patten’s.  The  stone 
for  the  Parrott  building  was  dressed  and  fitted 
in  China.  The  tenants  of  Mr.  Stevenson’s  build- 
ing accord  its  owner  the  reputation  of  being  the 
most  obliging  landlord  in  the  city;  and  it  is 
generally  understood  that  the  building  pays  the 
best  interest  of  any  property  on  Montgomery 
street,  and  Mr.  Stevenson’ s tenants  do  not  like 
to  look  farther  and  fare  worse. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


259 


Hull  & Ryckman  were  the  proprietors  of  the 
“ New  World”  building,  on  the  northeast  cor- 
ner of  Commercial  and  Leidesdorff.  The  lower 
floor  was  a large  saloon,  and  the  upper  stories 
were  offices  and  lodging  rooms.  We  remember 
that  a man  who  had  been  employed  in  the 
building,  painting,  papering,  or  doing  something 
else,  was  remonstrated  with  by  Mr.  Ryckman 
for  negligence  or  dishonesty  in  his  work,  when 
he  became  insolent,  saying  to  Mr.  Ryckman, 

“ If  you  were  a younger  man  I would  whip 
you.”  “ Oh,  don’t  let  that  deter  you  in  the 
least,’  ’ said  Mr.  Ryckman,  getting  up  from  his 
chair,  and  closing  the  office  door.  “I’ll  not 
ask  any  odds  on  that  account,”  he  continued, 
walking  up  to  the  man  and  giving  him  a rousing 
box  on  the  ear.  The  man  exerted  himself  with 
all  his  ability,  but  was  soon  compelled  to  suc- 
cumb, and  gladly  departed  when  Mr.  Ryckman  * 
pointed  to  the  door. 

Nash,  Patten  & Thayer  built  and  owned  the 
“ Kremlin,”  on  the  southeast  corner  of  Com- 
mercial and  Leidesdorff.  The  lower  floor  was 
occupied  by  a saloon,  bar  and  restaurant,  and 
the  upper  floors  by  lodging  rooms.  The  restau- 
rant was  on  the  Leidesdorff  side  of  the  building. 

It  was  on  the  beach,  in  the  rear  of  this  building, 
where  Captain  Folsom  shot  Mr.  Nathaniel  Page 


260 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


— or  Mr.  Page’ s watch — as  the  hall  struck  the 
time-keeper,  which  foiled  the  death- dealer. 
This  assault  took  place  on  the  beach,  nearer  to 
Halleck  street  than  Commercial,  but  it  was  all 
open  water  outside  Leidesdorff  street.  The  tide 
came  up  under  the  “New  World”  and  “Krem- 
lin” buildings,  as  late  as  May  4th,  when  both 
houses  were  destroyed  by  fire. 

John  H.  Redington  was  of  the  firm  of  E.  8. 
Holden  & Co.,  druggists,  on  Sansome,  between 
California  and  Pine,  in  1850.  Subsequently 
Mr.  Redington  was  with  Andrew  J.  Almy,  on 
the  southeast  corner  of  Clay  and  Montgomery. 
Hr.  Holden  has  since  resided  in  Stockton,  and 
been  Mayor  of  that  town.  He  is  a very  active 
railroad  man,  with  views  and  energy  far  in  ad- 
vance of  that  dozing  village  by  the  San  Joaquin. 
Mr.  Redington  has  been  in  the  California  Sen- 
. ate.  Mr.  Almy  died  some  years  since,  and  W. 
H.  Keith  occupied  the  old  store  on  the  corner 
of  Clay  and  Montgomery  for  some  time  prior 
to  removing  across  the  street,  into  Howard’s 
building,  now  occupied  by  James  Gr.  Steele  & 
Co. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


261 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

In  the  summer  of  1850  we  lived  in  a little 
cottage  on  Montgomery  street,  somewhere  be- 
tween Broadway  and  Vallejo;  the  precise  spot 
we  cannot  tell,  as  there  were  no  land-marks  to 
designate  street  lines,  the  whole  neighborhood 
being  precipitous,  rough  and  uneven,  save  where 
some  little  space  had  been  leveled  for  a house 
or  tent.  There  were  very  few  habitations  of 
any  kind,  after  passing  the  line  of  Broadway. 

Nearly  opposite  our  domicile  was  a little  tent, 
its  only  occupants,  a woman  and  child.  The 
mother  was  seldom  seen ; the  daughter,  a deli- 
cate, interesting  child  of  eight  or  nine  years, 
was  often  at  the  opening  of  the  tent,  shyly  ob- 
serving us,  with  childlike  curiosity,  as  we  went 
down  to  the  city  in  the  morning  and  returned 
at  evening.  The  mother  and  child  were  dressed 
in  poor,  soiled,  mourning  garments,  but  their 
attire  could  not  make  them  seem  coarse  or  un- 
refined. In  the  occasional  glimpse  of  the 
mother,  we  could  discern  the  unmistakable 


262 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


lady — that  something  which  all  can  see  and 
none  describe.  We  never  spoke  with  her,  knew 
nothing  of  her,  not  even  her  name;  but  knew 
she  was  a well-bred,  accomplished  lady.  She 
had  a poor,  jingley,  old  piano  in  her  wretched, 
little  canvas  apology  for  a shelter;  but  she 
never  indulged  in  any  trashy  music.  Early  in 
the  morning  and  late  in  the  evening  we  heard 
her  practising,  with  the  facility  and  grace  of  a 
musician — a style  which  even  the  muffling  can- 
vas could  not  hide.  Sometimes,  though  seldom, 
she  gave  a little  scrap  of  a sonata,  a fragment 
of  Mozart,  Beethoven  or  Sebastian  Bach,  with 
exquisite  effect,  but  never  any  trash. 

In  our  daily  and  constant  going  and  coming, 
we  made  friends  with  the  little,  lonesome-look- 
ing girl,  so  pale  and  quiet ; and  she  was  always 
watching  for  us,  morning  and  night — a pure 
pleasure  for  us,  so  far  from  home  and  children. 
We  often  brought  her  some  trifle — a toy,  a little 
paper  of  confectionery,  a cake  or  picture-book, 
which  she  received  at  first  shyly,  but  with  much 
pleasure;  and  after  our  better  acquaintance, 
with  an  up  concealed  delight,  that  made  the 
moment  as  much  to  us  as  to  her  poor  little 
fragile  self — worth  all  the  day  beside.  One 
evening  at  our  return  we  missed  her,  and  lin- 
gered awhile  to  meet  her,  but  she  did  not  come. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


263 


We  went  in  to  our  dinner,  but  the  little  omis- 
sion had  made  us  less  hungry  than  usual,  and 
we  dwelt  upon  our  little  friend’s  absence  long 
into  the  evening. 

When  morning  came  she  was  not  there  to 
welcome  us,  and  we  waited  vainly,  almost  de- 
termined to  step  to  the  tent  and  satisfy  our 
curiosity;  but  did  not — turning  down  the  hill, 
with  reluctant  steps,  to  our  daily  labor.  We 
thought,  all  through  the  long  September  day, 
about  our  little  friend,  sure  of  meeting  her 
when  we  went  home ; but  again  we  were  disap- 
pointed, and  resolved  to  know  in  the  morning 
all  about  our  missing  one.  We  questioned  our 
host  and  his  wife,  but  they  had  not  noticed — 
believed  they  had  seen  neither  mother  nor 
child  that  day.  At  midnight  we  were  awak- 
ened by  a woman’s  voice  in  agony  of  weeping, 
and  supplicating  prayer.  Starting  from  our 
bed,  we  hastened  to  the  window.  All  was  still; 
not  a sound  came  to  our  listening  ears.  The 
moon  was  wonderfully  bright,  revealing  every 
object  in  the  still,  cool  night,  with  great  dis- 
tinctness. 

Thinking  we  had  been  awakened  by  a dream, 
we  were  turning  back  to  bed,  when  a loud 
cry  rang  out  upon  the  silent  night — a wail 
so  utterly  despairing,  that  our  heart  stood  still. 


264 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


It  came  from  the  little  tent;  there  was  a dull, 
reddish  light  through  the  canvas,  unnoticeable 
before  in  the  all-powerful  moonlight.  Agoniz- 
ing sobs  followed  the  long,  thrilling  cry;  the 
mother’ s voice  calling  her  darling’ s name ; the 
sound  of  oft-repeated  kisses;  then  low  moans 
and  silence.  The  child  was  dead!  We  hastily 
dressed  and  hurried  to  the  spot.  There  were 
other  voices  in  the  tent;  soft,  soothing  words 
from  women’s  lips  and  from  their  hearts — kind, 
sympathizing  neighbors,  we  knew,  by  the  lighted, 
open  doors  near  by.  Knowing  the  poor,  moth- 
erless woman  was  in  gentle  hands,  we  turned 
sadly  away  to  wait  for  daylight.  We  longed  to 
offer  some  sympathy  or  assistance;  but  it  never 
would  have  helped  the  wretched  mother,  who 
was  almost  paralyzed  with  grief. 

As  we  went  down  our  daily  path,  our  heart 
heavy  with  its  first  sorrow  in  this  earthly  para- 
dise, we  met  a man  carrying  a little  coffin  on 
his  shoulder.  Stopping  in  the  path,  we  stood 
uncovered,  repeating  in  our  heart,  “The  Lord 
giveth  and  the  Lord  taketh  away:  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord!”  and  went  on  to  the 
battle  of  life,  with  no  courage  in  our  heart. 
When  we  came  home  at  night,  the  place  seemed 
strangely  altered.  A little,  level  place  on  the 
hillside,  was  all  that  remained  to  mark  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


265 


spot  where  had  been  the  tent,  our  innocent 
little  friend,  the  mother’s  long  days  of  anxious 
poverty,  and  her  last  night  of  hopeless  agony. 
They  were  gone  from  our  sight  and  knowledge, 
from  everything  hut  memory,  forever. 


266 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

The  late  James  Donahue  was  one  of  the  most 
practical  men  and  useful  citizens  ever  known  in 
San  Francisco.  His  great  energies  were  always 
directed  towards  some  object  which  ultimately 
resulted  in  public  improvement  and  the  welfare 
of  his  fellow  citizens.  His  sagacity  and  fore- 
sight are  proven  by  the  eventuating  of  his 
undertakings.  Having  once  conceived  an  enter- 
prise, it  was  viewed  on  every  side  in  the  search- 
ing light  of  his  strong  practical  sense;  and 
when  determined  upon,  was  persistently  pur- 
sued to  sure  success.  His  worldly  wisdom  was 
only  equaled  by  his  modesty  and  charity;  and 
we  may  truly  say  that,  among  all  the  men 
whom  we  remember,  during  the  almost  quarter 
of  a century  of  our  life  in  San  Francisco,  we 
recall  not  one  more  moral,  useful  and  upright 
citizen  than  the  late  James  Donahue. 

Mr.  Joseph  Gr.  Eastland  was  in  San  Francisco 
in  1849,  but  we  do  not  place  him,  until  ’52  or 
’53,  when  he  was  with  the  S.  F.  Gras  Co.  Mr. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


267 


Eastland  was  the  confidential  secretary  of  the 
late  Janies  Donahue,  who  was  a man  to  select 
none  hut  good  officers.  In  brief,  to  any  one 
acquainted  with  the  late  Mr.  Donahue,  this  fact 
is  as  good  as  many  elaborated  pages  upon  the 
character  and  qualifications  of  Mr.  Eastland, 
who  is  indeed  a gentleman  of  refined  and  cul- 
tivated tastes,  aside  from  his  thorough  business 
capacity. 

Dr.  Parker — W.  C.  Parker — was  of  the  firm 
of  Stevenson  & Parker,  in  1850.  Their  office 
was  in  the  adobe  building,  on  the  Plaza.  They 
were  in  the  real  estate  business.  Col.  Steven- 
son was  the  commander,  and  Dr.  Parker  was 
the  surgeon  of  Stevenson’s  Regiment.  We  do 
not  think  there  is  a man  in  California  who  has 
any  just  cause  of  complaint  against  Dr.  W.  C. 
Parker.  Not  that  he  is  a negative  character,  by 
any  means,  or  a person  who  will  bear  the  least 
crowding;  but  he  is  so  quiet,  so  unassuming, 
and  still  so  perfectly  just  in  all  his  dealings, 
that  we  cannot  believe  any  one  knows  him 
without  coinciding  with  our  expressed  opinion. 

Colonel  Stevenson  is  too  well  known  for  any 
remarks  in  our  pages.  We  would  like  to  have 
the  secret  of  the  Colonel’s  unflagging  vigor  and 
vitality.  We  were  turning  into  a doorway  on 
Montgomery  street,  a short  time  since,  to  visit 


268 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


one  of  the  up-stairs  offices;  and,  as  we  were 
walking  up,  Colonel  Stevenson  brushed  past  us, 
with  a cheery  “Good  morning!”  and  jumped 
up,  two  steps  at  a time,  to  the  landing,  like  a 
school-boy.  Most  of  our  citizens  conform  a lit- 
tle to  the  fashions,  but  the  Colonel  wears  the 
same  style  of  closely-buttoned  frock,  and  mili- 
tary fatigue  cap ; and  seems  the  same  Colonel 
Stevenson  who  came  here  in  1847. 

There  was  a Dr.  Parker,  who  had  an  office  on 
Kearny  street  in  ’49,  and  in  June,  ’50;  but 
we  do  not  remember  seeing  him  since  that 
time.  He  was  a tall,  large-framed  man,  with  a 
long,  dark  beard;  and  we  remember  hearing  him 
say  that  he  was  from  Shirley,  Mass.,  and  think 
he  was  a graduate  of  old  Harvard. 

James  L.  King  arrived  in  San  Francisco  on 
the  steamer  Tennessee , June  20th,  1850.  We 
believe  that  Captain  Cole  commanded  the  Ten- 
nessee that  trip.  Lieut.  McDermott,  of  the  U.  S. 
N.,  was  her  first  officer;  and  subsequently  was 
on  the  Altas  editorial  staff.  Mr.  King  has  been 
a successful  real  estate  operator,  and  is  exceed- 
ingly well  posted  on  any  titles  to  land  within 
six  miles  of  the  Plaza.  Our  intercourse  has 
always  been  pleasant,  and  we  are  indebted  to 
Mr.  King  for  many  valuable  items. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


269 


S.  F.  Blaisdell  is  one  of  the  California  pio- 
neers. We  believe  he  came  from  Lima  to  San 
Francisco.  To  the  former  city  he  went  as  en- 
gineer of  the  steamer  Rimae , which  was  built 
in  the  United  States,  and  sent  out  for  the  Peru- 
vian Government  in  1847.  Mr.  Blaisdell  has 
long  been  interested  in  one  of  the  first  estab- 
lished telegraph  companies  of  San  Francisco. 
He  is  a man  of  strong  predilections  and  em- 
phatic expression,  but  of  true  and  sterling  in- 
tegrity. 

Fred.  Thibault  was  a commission  merchant 
at  245  Montgomery  street,  in  the  spring  of  ’50. 
But  we  have  known  him  so  many  years  in  his 
official  capacity,  that  it  is  a little  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  he  could  ever  have  been  anything  else 
than  the  most  exact  of  conveyancers  and  public 
notaries.  To  be  on  the  spot  “ where  men  most 
do  congregate,”  and  not  see  Mr.  Thibault’ s well 
known  figure  and  peculiar  sombrero , would  be  a 
strange  incident  in  that  day. 

William  H.  Tillinghast,  now  a banker  on  Cali- 
fornia street,  was,  in  the  spring  of  ’ 50,  of  the 
firm  of  E.  Mickle  k Co.,  on  Clay  street,  north 
side,  between  Montgomery  and  Sansome.  Mr. 
Tillinghast  came  from  Valparaiso  to  San  Fran- 
cisco. He  is  a thorough-bred  merchant  and  a 
courteous  gentleman. 


270 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Samuel  Price  was  of  the  firm  of  E.  D.  Heat- 
ley  & Co.,  commission  merchants,  on  Exchange 
Court,  off  Montgomery  street.  Mr.  Price  was 
the  consul  for  Chili  in  the  spring  of  ’50,  and,  if 
we  are  not  mistaken,  is  a native  of  that  coun- 
try. However,  we  are  sure  that  no  more  amia- 
ble man  in  business,  or  the  social  relations  of 
life,  ever  came  to  San  Francisco  from  any  part 
of  the  world. 

It.  H.  Sinton  arrived  in  California  on  board 
the  U.  S.  ship  of  war  Ohio , Commodore  Jones, 
in  1847.  Mr.  Sinton  was  acting  paymaster,  the 
purser  having  become  insane  on  the  passage. 
In  the  spring  of  ’50,  Mr.  Sinton  was  of  the  firm 
of  Sinton  & Bagley,  on  Clay,  below  Kearny 
street,  their  store  being  on  the  same  spot  now 
occupied  by  Lewis’  jewelry  store.  In  all  the 
years  of  Mr.  Sinton’ s residence  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, in  his  business  relations,  his  official  capa- 
city and  social  life,  he  has  had  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  his  fellow-citizens.  Mr.  Sinton  is 
now  in  the  real  estate  business  with  Gen.  Geo. 
P.  Ihrie,  late  of  the  U.  S.  A. 

Phillip  McGovern  was  on  the  corner  of  First 
and  Mission  streets,  in  the  days  when  first  we 
knew  him — some  time  in  ’50;  and  in  all  the 
time  since  those  days,  we  have  known  nothing 
but  good  of  him.  We  meet  him  occasionally, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


271 


and  he  wears  well.  We  hope  he  may  be  with 
us  for  many  years  to  come. 

Charles  Lux  had  his  office  on  Kearny  street, 
near  Sacramento,  in  1850;  and,  if  we  are  not 
mistaken,  is  in  the  same  place  to-day.  Not  the 
same  building — a large  brick  building  stands 
where  the  old  wooden  structure  containing  Mr. 
Lux’s  office  stood,  twenty-three  years  ago.  What 
shabby  old  shanties  made  up  Kearny  street  in 
those  days!  We  were  all  in  a hurry  then;  we 
didn’t  think  so  much  of  appearances  as  now — 
hadn’t  time!  Now,  Kearny  street  is  quite  ur- 
ban; and  our  old  friend  Lux  has  “cattle  upon 
a thousand  hills.” 

Mr.  Thomas  Breeze,  of  the  firm  of  Murphy, 
Grant  & Co.,  was  at  a desk  in  an  office  on  Clay 
street  wharf,  the  first  time  we  ever  saw  him.  It, 
was  on  the  ninth  of  June,  1850;  and  we  remem- 
ber, also,  that  Elisha  W.  Bourne  and  Captain 
Brenham,  subsequently  Mayor  of  San  Francisco, 
were  at  Mr.  Breeze’s  desk,  on  business.  We 
know  of  few  men  who  have  given  themselves 
so  unremittingly  to  business  for  the  past  twenty- 
three  years  as  Mr.  Breeze ; and  we  are  glad  in 
our  belief  that  he  has  reaped  the  reward  of  his 
long  labors. 

John  F.  Lohse  was  a merchant  on  Washing- 
ton street,  between  Montgomery  and  Sansome, 


272 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


in  the  spring  of  ’50,  and  was  an  agreeable  man 
with  whom  to  transact  business.  He  still  re- 
tains that  amiable  trait,  and  will  to-day  nego- 
tiate with  affable  courtesy  the  sale  of  powder 
enough  to  blow  up  every  truant  husband  in  the 
State  of  California.  Music  is  a grand  conserv- 
ant  of  men’ s lives  and  tempers,  and  Mr.  Lohse 
is  one  of  the  dilettante. 

Camilo  Martin  was  on  Washington  street,  be- 
tween Montgomery  and  Sansome,  in  the  spring 
of  ’50.  To-day,  Mr.  Martin  is  the  consul  for 
Spain,  and  is  in  the  London  and  San  Francisco 
Bank.  As  we  see  Mr.  Martin  passing  along  the 
street  to-day,  he  appears  the  same  as  he  did 
twenty-three  years  ago. 

Mr.  William  Stevenson,  so  long  the  treasurer 
of  Maguire’s  Opera  House,  arrived  in  San  Fran- 
cisco in  1849.  Soon  after  his  arrival,  Mr.  Howe 
opened  his  circus  entertainments  on  Kearny 
street,  exactly  where  Commercial  street  now 
opens  into  it;  and  Mr.  Stevenson  took  charge  of 
the  financial  department.  Through  all  the 
years  since  that  time,  and  in  the  various  places 
of  amusement  where  our  old  friend  has  counted 
so  much  of  “the  root  of  all  evil,”  we  may  ven- 
ture to  state  that  the  cash  always  balanced,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  all  parties  concerned. 

Grayson  & Guild  were  on  the  east  side  of 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


278 


Sansome,  between  Pacific  and  Jackson;  and  in 
the  summer  of  ’50,  there  was  just  room  enough 
to  drive  drays  past  their  store-door;  the  bank 
rising  abruptly  along  the  line  of  the  middle  of 
the  street  in  front  of  their  store,  making  the 
western  half  of  the  way  nearly  as  high  as  the 
roof  of  their  building.  A.  J.  Grayson  and  family 
are  painted  in  Jewett’s  picture  of  “ The  California 
Pioneer.”  Mr.  Guild,  we  believe,  returned  to 
St.  Louis  many  years  ago.  Mr.  J.  F.  Lightner, 
who  was  with  Grayson  & Guild  at  this  time, 
is  still  a resident,  and,  we  think,  is  in  business 
on  California  street. 

Norton,  Satterlee  and  Norton  were  counsel- 
or s-at-law,  and  had  their  office  in  No.  1,  Laffan’s 
Building,  Plaza.  The  late  Hon.  Edward  Nor- 
ton, Chief  Justice  of  California,  and  Myron 
Norton,  were  the  partners  of  Judge  Satterlee, 
who  was  Judge  of  the  Superior  Court  in  ’ 52- 
’53.  The  late  David  C.  Broderick  used  to-say: 
“We  are  sure  of  justice  in  the  Superior  Court, 
because  John  Satterlee  sits  there.”  Nathaniel 
Bennett  was  an  Associate  Justice  of  the  Supreme 
Court  at  that  time.  The  McAllisters,  father 
and  son,  were  eminent  lawyers  at  that  time. 
Hall  McAllister  always  has  plenty  of  business, 
because  he  never  neglects  his  clients.  Edwards, 
Chetwood,  Bose,  Pringle,  Whitcomb,  Noyes, 
18 


274 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Lake,  Janes,  Boyd,  Barber,  and  many  others, 
were  practising  law  in  San  Francisco  in  the 
spring  of  ’ 50.  Ogden  Hoffman’ s office  was  also 
in  Laffan’s  building  in  ’50. 

We  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  Dr.  Jones  and 
his  eccentric  conduct  with  his  gold-dust;  but 
we  omitted  to  mention  the  fact  of  his  going 

home  to , we  forget  the  town,  in  Hew 

York  State,  but  think  it  was  Poughkeepsie,  his 
native  place — somewhere  in  that  neighborhood, 
however — and  taking  his  treasure  with  him. 
He  would  not  have  it  out  of  his  sight;  refused 
to  deposit  or  invest  it;  but  kept  it  in  his  room, 
and  sat  watching  it  all  day  and  nearly  all  night; 
too  anxious  to  slumber — afraid  to  close  his  eyes, 
lest  his  treasure  should  “ take  to  itself  wings.” 
Of  course  this  could  not  long  continue;  and 
soon  the  insomnious  argonaut  died  midst  his 
golden  fleece. 

Fred  Gfibbs,  Morton  Cheesman,  Capt.  Johns, 
and  Florence  Mahoney,  arrived  on  the  steam- 
ship California , January  22,  1850.  Mr.  Gibbs’ 
first  place  of  business  was  on  Washington  street, 
near  Kearny;  then  on  Sansome,  corner  of  Wash- 
ington, where  he  was  burned  out  ; and  was 
again  and  again  burned  out  on  Sansome  street — 
three  times  in  all.  Mr.  Gibbs  is  a generous, 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


275 


warm-hearted  man  and  true  friend ; a good  citi- 
zen, and  a graduate  of  old  Harvard. 

Morton  Cheesman  is  a good  specimen  of  the 
men  of  ’50 — not  half  a century,  he’s  a young 
man  yet: — and  is  widely  and  favorably  known 
in  business  and  social  circles.  Capt.  Johns  ar- 
rived twenty-two  days  too  late  for  the  Associa- 
tion of  Pioneers ; but,  for  all  that,  they  elected 
him  their  president,  one  foggy  evening,  much 
to  the  astonishment  of  many  worthy  citizens, 
who  were  here  two  or  three  weeks  prior  to 
Captain  Johns’  arrival,  yet  believed  themselves 
ineligible.  The  next  morning,  when  the  fog 
had  cleared  away,  the  brilliant  body  who  had 
elevated  Captain  Johns  to  the  presiding  chair  of 
their  august  assembly,  looked  very  solemn,  and 
conferred  in  anxious  whispers,  the  result  of  which 
was  a reconsideration  of  their  vote,  which  let 
Captain  Johns  out  of  the  Associationof  Pioneers. 

This  unparliamentary  action  was  more  amus- 
ing than  surprising  to  the  citizens  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, who  knew  of  the  prevailing  fog  about  the 
heads.  Some  day,  a good  healthy  breeze  will 
clear  up  the  heavy  mists,  and  make  it  plain 
sailing  for  all  Californians  who  were  here  on 
the  ninth  of  September,  1850.  Florence  Ma- 
hony  died  long  years  ago,  and  all  our  recollec- 
tions of  him  are  pleasant.  All  the  partners  in 
his  firm — Case,  Heiser  & Co. — are  dead. 


276 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

William  Shear  was  the  proprietor  of  the 
“Tontine/’  on  the  southeast  corner  of  Mont- 
gomery and  Commercial,  in  1849-50.  In  Sep- 
tember, ’51,  Mr.  Shear  took  the  Nightingale 
Hotel,  at  the  Mission.  Tenbroeck  & Clark 
opened  the  “Nightingale”  in  1850. 

Mr.  Shear  is  in  some  respects  a very  remark- 
able man.  His  great  fund  of  vitality  and  ex- 
uberance of  spirits,  health  and  endurance,  are 
simply  wonderful.  His  quick,  keen  perception 
of  the  situation,  and  his  ability  to  master  it,  to 
make  troubled  elements  harmonious,  is  nothing 
less  than  genius.  So  many  men  past  youth  be- 
come morose  or  misanthropic,  that  it  cheers 
one  to  meet  an  old  boy  like  Mr.  Shear.  Per- 
sonally, he  seems  as  active  and  vigorous  as  in 
the  spring  of  ’50;  mentally,  just  as  ready  in 
repartee,  in  fun  and  humor;  still  firm  in  the 
belief  that  happiness  is  the  principal  thing  in 
this  world;  and  certainly  he  is  a very  good 
illustration  of  its  value  as  a sanitary  proposi- 
tion. 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


277 


One  evening  we  were  in  company  with  a con- 
vivial party,  among  whom  were  Harry  B 

and  Tom  F . They  were  very  jolly,  and 

as  usual,  disposed  to  ventilate  their  classics. 
After  numerous  quotations,  correct  and  very 
much  mixed,  they  came  to  a snag — not  literal 
— hut  literary.  They  tried,  and  stuck  upon  it; 
tried  again  and  again,  hut  with  no  better  suc- 
cess, until  it  was  too  evident  that  the  professed 
belle  lettre  men  couldn’t  make  the  connection. 
At  this  juncture,  Bill  Shear,  who  had  been 
leaning  back,  silently  smoking  through  all  the 
mountain  labor,  said:  “Why,  I am  surprised, 
gentlemen!  I supposed,  at  first,  that  you  were 
joking — here’s  the  quotation!”  He  gave  it 
correctly,  adding,  “I  knew  that  I could  shoe  a 
horse  better  than  any  of  you;  but  I never  for 
one  moment  imagined  I could  beat  you  at  your 
own  game.” 

Thomas  J.  Poulterer  was  on  the  corner  of 
California  and  Montgomery  street  in  1849-50. 
We  remember  a great  sale  of  China  goods, 
fancy  furniture,  bedsteads,  lounges,  chairs, 
work-tables,  silks,  shawls,  ivory-work,  stone- 
ware, etc.,  seemingly  enough  to  supply  the 
whole  city  for  a year.  Mr.  Poulterer  is  great 
as  an  auctioneer;  he  establishes  a sympathy 
between  his  audience  and  himself  as  soon  as  he 


278 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


commences  to  speak,  which  makes  his  sales 
successful.  There  is  nothing  narrow  or  mean 
in  his  nature,  and  he  makes  himself  deservedly 
popular,  without  the  slightest  intention. 

Mr.  Poulterer,  after  rusticating  for  a while 
beneath  the  shade  of  his  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  in 
the  salubrious  air  of  Sonoma,  where  G-eorge 
Watriss,  C.  Y.  Stewart  and  Major  Snyder  now 
reside,  has  returned  to  our  midst,  where  we 
hope  he  may  long  live  and  prosper. 

William  F.  Williamson,  Willis  Johnson  and 
Samuel  Davis  built  the  “Veranda,”  on  the  cor- 
ner of  Washington  and  Kearny  streets,  in  June, 
1850,  and  were  doing  a fine  business  there 
until  Willis  Johnson’s  death,  which  interrupted 
the  smooth  flow  of  fortune’s  tide,  and  Mr.  Wil- 
liamson went  to  Gold  Bluff,  subsequently  to 
Downieville,  and  later  still  to  Sonora,  Tuolumne 
county.  The  Bay  View  Park  Hotel  was  opened 
by  Mr.  Williamson,  and  kept  in  better  style 
than  any  “out-of-town  hotel”  ever  opened  in 
California.  It  was  glorious  for  the  guests,  but 
not  remunerative  to  Mr.  Williamson,  who  has, 
since  leaving  the  “Bay  View,”  been  the  Turf 
Reporter  for  the  “Alta  California.”  No  man 
in  California,  perhaps  none  in  America,  has  a 
more  voluminous  record  of  Turf  Sports  than 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


279 


Mr.  Williamson,  who  is  quoted  as  authority  in 
those  matters. 

Frederick  Marriott  was  in  business  with  a 
Mr.  Anderson,  as  monetary  agents,  in  Cross, 
Hobson  & Co’s  building,  on  Clay  street,  in 
1849.  Mr.  Marriott  was  at  that  time  the  cor- 
respondent of  the  London  Times.  Subsequently 
he  was  with  Smith  Brothers  in  the  “ Exchange 
for  All  Nations,”  on  the  corner  of  Sansomeand 
California;  and  still  more  recently  in  business 
with  Mr.  Alfred  Wheeler.  For  many  years  Mr. 
Marriott  has  been  the  proprietor  of  the  News 
Letter , which  has  grown  to  be  a very  popular  and 
profitable  institution,  having  amongst  its  con- 
tributors the  ablest  pens  in  California.  This 
paper  numbers  more  Atlantic  subscribers  than 
any  other  newspaper  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and 
is  found  on  the  reading-room  tables  of  every 
first  class  Club  in  London. 

Alexander  Austin,  our  present  Tax  Collector, 
had  a bakery  on  Pacific  street,  in  the  latter  part 
of  ’49  or  the  spring  of  ’50.  In  ’52,  perhaps 
earlier,  Mr.  Austin  opened  his  dry  goods  store, 
on  Sacramento  street,  just  above  Montgomery. 
Subsequently  he  removed  to  Montgomery,  be- 
tween Sacramento  and  California;  and  later 
still,  to  the  corner  of  Sutter  and  Montgomery. 


280 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Mr.  Austin  has  been  twice  elected  to  the  office 
of  Tax  Collector,  with  satisfaction  to  all  par- 
ties. He  is  a true  friend,  and  full  of  charity 
and  kindness.  It  has  always  been  a kind  of 
proverb  or  standing  joke,  that  the  Scotch  are  a 
close-fisted,  stingy  nation.  We  never  were  in 
the  “land  o’ cakes,”  but  if  the  Scotch  are  so 
at  home,  the  climate  of  California  has  a won- 
derful effect  upon  them,  for  they  are  the  most 
liberal  people  in  our  country.  Messrs.  Alex- 
ander and  Joseph  Austin,  Donald  McClellan, 
James  Laidley,  the  Watt  brothers,  Mr.  Chis- 
holm, the  late  James  Murray  and  George  Gor- 
don, in  fact,  all  of  the  Scotchmen  we  have 
known  in  San  Francisco,  have  been  liberal,  pub- 
lic-spirited men.  Donald  McClellan  is  a good 
specimen  of  the  Scotch- American ; a shrewd, 
active,  liberal-minded  business  man;  open- 
handed  and  generous,  always  developing  the 
resources  of  any  country  where  he  may  be  liv- 
ing, and  making  employment  for  many  men. 

The  California  Courier , a daily  paper,  was  pub- 
lished and  edited  by  Crane  & Hice.  T.  J. 
Dryer  was  city  editor  and  reporter.  The  office 
was  on  Montgomery  street,  near  the  Custom 
House. 

Nugent  & Co.  were  the  proprietors  of  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


281 


Daily  Herald.  John  Nugent  was  the  editor. 
Office  on  Montgomery,  between  Clay  and  Wash- 
ington. Subsequently  the  Herald  office  was  on 
Montgomery,  a little  south  of  Sacramento. 

The  Journal  of  Commerce , a daily  paper,  was 
published  by  Washington  Bartlett.  Office, 
Montgomery  street,  between  Washington  and 
Clay. 

The  Pacific  News  office  was  on  Kearny,  be- 
tween Pacific  and  Jackson.  Its  proprietors 
were  J.  Winchester  and  It.  N.  Allen.  J.  Win- 
chester, editor. 

The  JEvening  Picayune , a daily  paper,  was  pub- 
lished by  Gihon  & Co.  Peter  A.  Brinsmade 
was  its  editor.  The  Picayune  office  was  on 
Jackson,  between  Kearny  and  Montgomery. 

The  Watchman , a monthly,  religious  paper, 
was  edited  by  Albert  Williams,  in  the  Journal  of 
Commerce  office. 

C.  L.  Taylor’ s office  was  on  Dupont  street, 
between  Pine  and  California.  He  was  a lumber 
and  commission  merchant,  the  same  as  to-day, 
and,  as  to-day,  liberal,  enterprising,  charitable 
and  public  spirited. 

Henry  Wetherbee  was  on  Pacific  street,  be- 
tween Sansome  and  Battery. 

Henry  Pierce  was  the  proprietor  of  the  Eagle 
Bakery,  on  Stockton  street,  between  Green  and 
Union. 


282 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


George  C.  Potter  was  Assistant  City  Surveyor, 
at  City  Hall. 

Endicott,  Greene  & Oakes  were  merchants  on 
Central  Wharf.  Mr.  Greene  has  since  been  of 
the  firm  of  Greene,  Heath  & Allen. 

Prohst,  Smith  & Co.  were  merchants  on  Cali- 
fornia street,  between  Montgomery  and  San- 
some. 

Hastier,  Baine  & Co.  were  on  California  street, 
between  Montgomery  and  Sansome.  Mr.  Mc- 
Knight,  so  many  years  with  the  latter  firm,  is 
now  in  Davidson’ s Bank,  on  the  corner  of  Com- 
mercial and  Montgomery. 

At  the  head  of  the  medical  profession  in  San 
Francisco,  in  the  spring  of  ’ 50,  were  Dr.  Bowie, 
Dr.  Stout,  Dr.  H.  M.  Gray,  Dr.  S.  B.  Gerry,  Dr. 
Bertody,  Dr.  McMillan,  and  Drs.  Coit,  S.  It. 
Harris,  Turnbull,  Tewksbury,  Bennett,  Mackin- 
tosh and  Howell.  Many  of  these  gentlemen 
are  still  in  practice  in  San  Francisco — all  of  them 
men  of  intellectual  superiority  and  unusual  at- 
tainments. There  were  many  others  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, hut  personally  unknown  to  us.  Dr.  Stack- 
pole,  Dr.  May,  Dr.  Sturtevant,  Dr.  Megguier, 
Drs.  West,  Forbes,  White,  Whitfield,  Trescott, 
Gihon,  Franklin,  Grover,  Barstow,  Gates,  Shuler, 
Morgan,  D.  S.  Smith,  Parker,  O’Brien,  Morri- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


283 


son,  Pierce,  Dr.  Moore,  and  Dr.  Miller,  all  in 
practice  in  San  Francisco  in  the  spring  of  ’50. 
We  do  not  remember  the  exact  time  when  Dr. 
Dupuytren,  Dr.  Badarous,  Doctors  Cole,  Whit- 
ney, Eckel,  Toland,  Sawyer,  Bruner,  Burgess, 
Fourgeaud,  and  other  eminent  men,  came  to  this 
city,  but  we  are  confident  that  it  was  subse- 
quent to  the  spring  of  ’50. 


284 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Whenever  we  go  out  on  the  Presidio  road,  or 
on  the  much  traveled  drive  to  the  “Cliff,”  and 
reach  that  point  of  observation  which  takes  in 
the  abrupt  shores  forming  the  northern  bound- 
ary of  the  “Golden  Gate,”  the  sight  of  those 
precipitous  reddish-brown  headlands,  looking  as 
if  sliced  off — split  away  by  some  Titan’s  axe — 
always  puts  us  in  a speculative  vein — a wonder- 
ing mood — a wish  to  know  when  that  mighty 
bulk  of  rock  and  mountain  height  was  rent 
away  from  the  Coast  Range,  permitting  the  pas- 
sage inland  of  the  waves  that  had  for  ages 
chafed,  and  foamed,  and  fretted  for  admission. 
There  is  a kind  of  recent  look  about  the  cleft 
wall  of  the  “Contra  Costa”  side  of  the  har- 
bor’s entrance — recent,  geologically  speaking; 
but  we  are  no  geologists.  Hugh  Miller  could 
not,  we  imagine,  possibly  conceive  of  a human 
being,  possessing  an  average  intelligence,  who 
knew  so  little  of  the  earth’s  formation  as  we 
confess  to ; but  we  have  never  looked  over  at 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


285 


the  Marin  shore  without  feeling  more  and  more 
convinced  that,  in  1578-9,  the  salt  ocean  did 
not  flow  where  we  now  see  the  white-winged 
messengers  pass  to  and  fro.  We  say  1578-9 
because,  at  that  time,  Sir  Francis  Drake — or, 
more  correctly  speaking,  Captain  Drake,  at  that 
time,  afterward  Sir  Francis — wintered  with  his 
crew,  at  what  is  now  known  as  Drake’s  Bay; 
and  it  is  not  probable  that,  if  the  harbor  had 
been  in  existence  then,  he  would  not  have  taken 
possession,  or  at  least  explored  it  and  given  it  a 
name. 

To  those  who  say,  “Oh,  Drake  passed  it  in 
the  fog — navigators  do  it  now,  every  month  in 
the  year  in  which  fogs  prevail,’  ’ we  will  reply 
that  Captain  Drake’s  log  says:  “We  followed 
the  shore  on  foot , southward,  one  hundred  miles, 
etc.,”  describing  the  climate,  soil,  general  ap- 
pearance, until  they  “came  to  a river  flowing 
into  the  sea.”  Now,  that  river’s  outlet  must 
have  been  some  sixty  miles  south  of  San  Fran- 
cisco’s present  location — that  river  poured  the 
waters  of  the  Sacramento  and  the  San  Joaquin 
into  the  Pacific.  There  might  have  been  an 
inland  lake,  lying  all  the  way  where  the  Bay 
now  stretches,  from  San  Francisco’s  northern 
extremity  to  San  Jose.  It  is  more  reasonable 
to  believe  that  a great  convulsion  of  Nature 


286 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


formed  the  Golden  Gate  since  Drake  was  here, 
than  that  there  was  a harbor  here  then,  and  he 
did  not  discover  it.  Long  after  Drake’s  day 
came  the  great  French  navigator,  La  Perouse. 
He  never  found  a harbor  where  we  now  see  the 
heaving  tide  bearing  the  u richly  freighted 
argosies.”  Nor  did  any  one  ever  know  or  sus- 
pect its  existence  until  about  a century  ago, 
when  the  Franciscan  friars,  traveling  up  from 
Mexico  to  found  their  missions  still  farther 
north,  came  upon  the  headlands  at  what  is  now 
known  as  Point  Lobos,  and  looking  down  upon 
the  leaping  breakers  on  the  Bar,  saw  that  which 
no  civilized  man  had  ever  before  seen — the 
grandest  harbor  between  Puget  Sound  and 
Cape  Horn.  We  have  always  believed  that  the 
Franciscan  friars  were  the  discoverers  of  the 
Golden  Gate ; that  they  were  the  first  of  civ- 
ilized men  who  looked  upon  the  result  of  that 
awful  convulsion  which  rent  the  mountains  and 
sank  them  in  the  exulting  ocean’s  mouth, 
whose  foaming,  trembling  lip  ceaselessly  frets 
along  the  rocky  shore,  as  if  in  hungry  anticipa- 
tion of  another  greedy  swallow  out  of  the  op- 
posing body  of  its  natural  enemy.  As  we  look 
upon  the  huge  fracture  on  the  northern  sea 
wall,  built  by  Earth’s  architect,  we  can  imagine 
the  fearful  throes  of  Mother  Nature — the  aw- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


287 


ful  subterranean  thunders,  the  grinding  of 
sunken  rocks  and  roar  of  engulfing  waters,  the 
clouds  of  blinding  dust,  the  wild  flight  of  ter- 
rified birds,  and  dreadful  consternation  of  every 
living  thing  within  the  scope  of  its  paralyzing 
action. 

Always,  as  we  look  upon  the  swelling  tide  at 
the  harbor’s  mouth,  the  ocean  seems  like  some 
huge,  breathing,  conscious  animal,  panting  yet 
with  the  pride  of  its  achievement,  but  too  un- 
wieldy and  gigantic  ever  again  to  be  composed 
and  calm  until  the  lapse  of  centuries. 

Often,  in  years  gone  by,  we  used  to  hear  from 
the  early  settlers  of  the  country  adjacent  to 
San  Francisco  (then  “Yerba  Buena”  *)  of  a tra- 
dition among  Indians  that,  many,  many  years 
ago,  their  forefathers  went  down  from  their 
homes  above  where  we  now  live,  to  attend  a 
great  festival  somewhere  near  the  present  site 
of  Monterey — and  that,  while  there,  a terrible 
earthquake  occurred.  When  they  were  return- 
ing to  their  homes,  they  found  the  old  pathway 
abruptly  ended  at  a jagged  cliff,  from  whose  pre- 
cipitous edge  they  gazed  with  wonder  at  a flow- 
ing sea  beneath  their  feet;  then  turned  and 
wound  their  toilsome  way  far  round  the  Contra 


*Good  Herb.  “ Yerba  Buena,”  an  aromatic  herb  growing  at  that 
time  on  the  hills  of  the  present  city’s  site. 


288 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


Costa  side.  “Never,  since  that  day,”  says  the 
legend,  “has  the  Devil’s  Mountain  (Monte 
Diablo)  spit  forth  fire  and  smoke.” 

The  Farallones.  — A little  surf- washed  and 
storm-beaten  group  of  rocky  islets;  not  large 
enough  to  be  dignified  by  the  term  islands,  yet 
standing  so  firm  against  the  great  Pacific  Ocean’s 
long  swell,  that,  rising  off  the  shores  of  Japan? 
never  ceases  until  it  leaps  in  snowy  foam  and 
thunders  in  angry  rage  against  this  sturdy  little 
outpost  of  the  great  continent  that  bars  its  fur- 
ther progress.  How  few  among  the  one  hun- 
dred and  seventy  thousand — mas  o menos — in- 
habitants, who  every  morning  enjoy  their  regular 
coffee  and  Alta,  have  any  idea  of  the  Farrallones, 
within  thirty  miles  of  where  they  spin  out  their 
thread  of  life  ? How  many  dwellers  in  the 
Chrysopolis  can  tell  you  how  many  millions  of 
dozen  of  murr’s  eggs  have  been  taken  from 
these  rocky  rookeries  since  the  year  1849?  How 
many  are  there  who  know  the  meaning  of  the 
word  Farall  ? Yelesquez’s  Spanish  dictionary 
says:  Farallon — a cliff,  a cape,  a headland,  a 
pointed  island  in  the  sea.  Some  have  thought 
it  meant  the  island  of  the  Lion  (Leone),  Farall 
Leone.  Some  Spaniards  say  Farall  is  lantern, 
beacon,  lighthouse.  There  is  a gigantic  mono- 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO.  289 

lith  upon  these  rocks,  with  an  immense,  clean- 
cut,  round  hole,  like  the  window,  or  light  in 
a lantern,  through  which  the  setting  sun  glows 
with  peculiar  effect.  Some  say  that  from 
this  the  name  is  derived.  The  lighthouse 
beams  its  welcome  beacon  to  the  fog-bewildered 
mariner  from  the  topmost  point  of  these  rocks 
now ; but  it  is  not  likely  that  any  lanterns  were 
ever  hung  there  before,  since  the  place  was 
known  to  man,  by  land  or  sea.  But  it  is  not 
with  the  name  that  we  have  now  to  do — ’tis 
with  the  dwellers  upon  this  lonely  little  out- 
post— the  countless  myriads  of  sea-birds — the 
Murre,  or  Muir,  as  it  is  vulgarly  called — the 
u Uria  Calif  brnica, 1 as  classed  by  ornithologists. 
No  description  can  give  the  reader  any  concep- 
tion of  the  numbers  of  these  birds  thronging 
this  spot,  perching  upon  every  possible  foothold, 
every  projection  where  a lodgment  can  be 
obtained;  crowding  the  pinnacles  and  ridges; 
squeezing  into  every  hollow  and  aperture;  in- 
numerable as  blades  of  grass.  In  one  place 
known  as  the  Great  Bookery — a hollow,  or  little 
valley — the  birds  are  so  densely  packed  that, 
save  at  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  nothing  but 
the  heads  of  the  birds  can  be  seen.  So  closely 
do  they  crowd  together,  that  their  heads,  in 
uniformity  of  size  and  color,  seem  like  a vast 
19 


290 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


bed  of  pebbles  agitated  by  some  subterranean 
commotion;  and  it  is  almost  an  impossibility 
for  one  of  them  to  rise  upon  his  wings  or  extri- 
cate himself  from  the  entanglement,  unless  he 
be  one  of  the  outer  ones. 

They  live  upon  fish,  and  may  be  truly  said  to 
earn  their  living,  as  well  as  any  of  the  hardy 
Italians  who  sally  out  in  all  weathers,  and  seem 
as  industrious  and  fearless  in  capturing  their 
prey,  as  the  feathered  dwellers  of  these  little 
islets.  The  Murre’s  egg  is  rather  larger  than  the 
ordinary  hen’s  egg;  of  a dim,  turquoise  blue, 
spotted  with  black.  They  are  rather  strongly 
flavored,  like  all  sea  birds’  eggs,  but  are  not  un- 
palatable, and  are  esteemed  by  some  as  superior 
in  the  making  of  cakes  and  pies.  When  the 
weather  is  calm  and  warm,  and  the  lazy,  glassy 
ocean  slowly  heaves,  like  the  breathing  of  some 
gigantic,  sentient  being,  the  Murre  basks  quietly 
in  the  semi-tropical  sun,  sleepily  enjoying  the 
renewed  vitality  that  the  sun  sends  through 
every  living  thing;  slowly  blinking  and  raising 
their  feathers  in  the  fervid  rays,  with  a half- 
uttered  note  of  lazy  comfort,  recuperating  for 
the  bristling  activity  of  the  coming  winds  and 
dashing,  foam-crested  breakers.  Then  the  Murre 
is  in  his  element.  When  the  long-sailing, 
weather-beaten  ships  look  anxiously  for  the 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


291 


brave  little  pilot;  when  every  craft — even  the 
Italian  fisherman — seeks  the  haven,  then  the 
Murre  revels  in  undisturbed  possession,  and 
wildly  screams  his  exultation  as  he  dashes  into 
the  seething  foam  of  the  thundering  breakers, 
wresting  his  finny  prey  from  where  no  boat 
could  live;  disappearing  in  the  roaring  waters, 
and  remaining  so  long  submerged  that  the  spec- 
tator, who  watches  his  fearless  dive,  has  long 
given  him  up  for  lost,  when  suddenly  he  rises 
above  the  commotion  of  water,  poises  an  instant 
to  shake  the  brine  from  his  oily  overcoat,  then 
soars  away  with  his  food  and  the  meal  for  his 
expectant  fledglings,  awaiting  in  some  nook, 
crevice,  fissure,  niche,  or  projecting  inequality, 
where  a nest  can  hold  two  of  those  callow,  auk 
bipeds. 

We  gaze,  and  wonder  if  Drake  and  his  men 
stood,  in  1579,  where  we  now  stand,  watching 
the  whilom  projectors  of  this  busy  colony;  if 
the  Farallones  were  here  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Bess’  favorite  admiral,  which  we  greatly  doubt; 
as  Sir  Francis’  log  says:  “We  hunted  along 

the  coast  (on  land)  from  our  winter  quarters 
(Drake’s  Bay),  and  found  the  coast  to  be,”  etc., 
etc.,  describing  it;  and,  as  Drake’s  Bay  is  only 
thirty  miles  north  of  the  entrance  of  San  Fran- 
cisco harbor,  and  he  found  no  harbor,  nor  yet 


292 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


the  Farallones,  it  is  very  reasonable  to  believe 
that  the  convulsion  of  Nature  which  rent  those 
dry,  perpendicular,  broken  cliffs,  on  which  we 
look  as  we  ride  along  the  southern  head,  came 
subsequent  to  Drake’ s visit,  or  even  that  of  La 
Perouse;  and  in  that  fearful  hour  the  home  of 
our  feathered  tribe  rose,  all  dark  and  dripping, 
from  the  astonished  Neptune’s  long  embrace. 
Certainly  this  abrupt,  little,  solitary  island 
could  not  have  been  overlooked  by  an  explor- 
ing party  passing  an  entire  winter,  only  thirty 
miles  away,  where  it  is  visible  every  clear  day. 
No!  on  the  whole,  we  think  the  birds’  nests 
were  not  here  in  Sir  Francis’  s time. 

How  curious  are  the  many  natural  formations 
of  rock : the  little  arches,  the  port-holes,  bas- 
tions, niches,  battlements,  towers,  walled  sentry 
boxes;  that  natural  bridge,  with  its  sharply  de- 
fined crossway  and  high-sprung  arch.  See  the 
crowd  of  birds  on  its  railed  edge.  They  stand 
so  close  and  regular  that,  in  the  distance,  they 
seem  like  some  grass  or  vegetation  growing 
there.  What  a singular  effect  is  produced,  as 
the  snow-white  breakers  rush,  roaring  up  the 
deep  chasm,  spanned  by  this  firm  bit  of  Nature’s 
masonry ; the  leaping,  seething  foam  hides  the 
blue  ocean,  clear  away  to  the  horizon,  giving  to 
our  vision  only  the  sky  above  the  flying,  fleecy 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


293 


froth,  chafing  forever  at  the  bridge’ s immovable 
foundations — forever  falling  back,  baffled  and 
defeated,  and  still  again  returning,  as  Hope 
fights  Fate,  in  useless,  but  in  undying  courage. 

It  is  good  for  the  intermural  dweller,  whose 
life,  actions  and  thoughts  have  been  year  after 
year  bounded  by  the  Pueblo  limits,  to  come 
here,  and  with  long,  grateful  inhalations  of  old 
Ocean’s  salty  breath,  expand  the  thoracic 
muscles,  win  fresh  vitality  and  new  ammuni- 
tion for  the  wasting  tissues  of  his  body,  and, 
perchance,  a healthful,  introspective  hour  for 
the  mental  faculties,  too  often  warped  and  dis- 
torted by  long  lingering  “in  the  busy  marts 
of  men.” 


294 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES 


CONCLUSION. 

Many  of  the  buildings  of  ’49  and  ’50  are 
still  standing  in  their  original  positions.  We 
find  most  of  them  in  the  northern  part  of  the 
city.  Some  of  them  show  little,  if  any  change, 
outwardly.  Their  time-worn,  old  fashion  ap- 
pearance adds  to  their  interest.  Some  of  them 
are  high  up  above  the  street-grade  of  to-day, 
perched  upon  cliffs,  made  by  mortal  hands — by 
political  chicanery — to  reward,  by  means  of 
street  contracts,  the  firm  and  faithful.  Away  up 
the  long-reaching,  repeated  flights  of  stairs, 
where  the  old  dwellings  now  stand,  we  used  to 
walk  along  the  natural  grade.  City  surveys  have 
not  improved  it,  nor  forced  these  faithful  old 
homes  to  leave  their  premises.  We  cannot  but 
rejoice  in  their  tenacity — their  firm  adherence  to 
the  old  spot,  in  spite  of  every  scheme  to  oust  and 
render  them  worthless.  Sometimes  we  copie 
upon  one  of  the  old,  familiar  dwellings,  upon 
some  street  whose  grade  has  not  been  changed — 
some  old  homestead,  standing  so  unassumingly 


OF  EARLY  SAN  FRANCISCO. 


295 


amid  its  pretentious,  obtrusive  neighbors,  in  their 
uniform  of  stucco-work  ornamentation,  and 
flashing  plate  glass,  like  files  of  nicely-decked 
soldiers  on  dress  parade,  and  so  completely 
changing  all  the  old,  once  familiar  ground,  that, 
when  we  suddenly  recognize  our  time-honored, 
old  acquaintance,  for  the  moment  we  are  greatly 
puzzled  to  decide  whether  the  mountain  has 
come  to  Mohammed,  or  vice  versa.  Occasionally, 
in  our  peregrinations,  we  are  startled  by  con- 
fronting, upon  some  newly-opened  way  in  the 
sands  beyond  Market  street,  the  well-known 
features  of  some  once  grand  edifice,  grown  ven- 
erable in  years  of  service  on  an  old,  central 
thoroughfare.  A sense  of  the  ludicrous  close 
jostles  our  surprise,  as  if,  led  by  impecuniosity 
to  our  uncle's  office , we  came  upon  Ralston  or 
Hayward,  furtively  concealing  something,  and 
trying  to  seem  calmly  indifferent.  There  is 
something  touching  in  the  sight  of  an  old 
dwelling-house  in  San  Francisco — old  for  this 
city,  where  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  many 
years  of  ordinary  life  are  rolled  in  one.  Their 
time-worn  fronts  seem  like  the  pleasant  faces 
of  old  friends.  We  love  to  look  upon  their 
vine-clad  porches,  so  full  of  interesting  remi- 
niscences— the  sheltering,  glazed  verandas, 
along  whose  sounding  floors  in  by-gone  years 


296 


MEN  AND  MEMORIES. 


pattered  so  many  little  feet — some  treading  now 
in  the  firm  step  of  manhood,  and  others  carried 
out,  so  still  and  white,  through  the  old  gate,  long 
years  ago,  to  rest  forever.  Those  little  window- 
panes  have  many  times  reflected  the  conflagra- 
tion’s lurid  flames,  and  revealed  the  happier 
picture  of  the  young  wife’s  welcoming  face,  and 
smiles  of  curly-pate  children.  The  green-gray 
roof,  the  low-ceiled  rooms—  oh  sanctified  by 
its  own  history  of  joy  or  so. _ow,  of  birth  and 
death,  and  parting  words  and  farewell  kiss. 

We  cling  to  everything  of  good  belonging  to 
the  spring  of  ’50.  If  we  admit  that  change  is 
progress,  and  that  progress  is  improvement, 
’ tis  with  a sigh  that  we  confess  it.  With  kind- 
ness in  our  hearts  toward  every  one,  we  still 
remember  those  old  words,  “Old  books  to  read; 
old  wine  to  drink,  old  wood  to  burn,  and  old 
friends  to  talk  with;”  and  we  may  be  forgiven 
for  clinging  to  the  old  associations  and  the  men 
belonging  to  San  Francisco  in  the  Spring  of  ’50. 


